In Times Like These
by gf7
Summary: A violent and sadistic rapist murderer forces JJ to face the demons of her past, namely what happened to her parents when she was a very small child. This IS a teamfic. It's also a working theory wrapped up in casefic.
1. Prologue

WRITER'S NOTE: Please know that yes, I am taking dramatic character liberties here, but this is an idea – a theory really – that I can't quite let go of. Maybe I'll get Joss'd or I guess in this 'verse, Bernero'd, but that's a risk I'm willing to take to get this idea out of my head. As for the other story I've been working on- THE BIG EMPTY - I still am. Such is the glory of outlining. Allows me to move between the two.

CONTENT WARNING: At least initially we'll go with a strong PG-13 type rating, but the potential for a harder one down the line is there. This chapter does deal with rape, but it's hardly graphic.

FINAL NOTE: This first chapter sets the stage and thus doesn't deal with the modern day BAU, but it's vitally important going forward. Please be patient- I promise come the next one, our team will be in action.

* * *

_December, 1983._

She was blonde, tiny and slim. Perhaps a bit too slim to be bluntly honest. Thankfully her massive ear to ear smile made up for that. And her eyes, blue like the turbulent ocean after a hard rain. Really, she was stunning. The most beautiful creature that twenty-six year old Tucker Krause had ever seen in his life.

And she was beneath him now, her skin against his. Hot like a fever. He looked down at her and saw that eyes were closed. Too bad, he thought. It seemed almost a sin not to be able to gaze into them, to look deep into her soul and see the imprint that he'd left there.

Another time then. They had plenty of time for that. Now, he thought, unable to keep from smiling, now they had forever.

He could still remember the first time he'd laid eyes on her. It'd been only a few months earlier, a crisp Fall morning, the streets full of leaves, the wind whipping around. She'd been bringing her kids to school, a pretty blonde five year old daughter who looked a lot like her mother and a seven year old boy with light brown hair.

He'd been bringing his own five year old son in. That night, over steamed ten for a dollar hotdogs, he'd grilled his boy extensively about the daughter, had tried to learn about the mother through the child. His little man had been as children often are, vague and disinterested, clearly not grasping the extent of his father's need to know.

But then, his boy still missed his mother. Hard to imagine, but true.

His mother had once upon a time been Tucker's college sweetheart. A bright shining masterpiece in a sea of cheap imitations. Or so he'd thought.

Looking back, he realized that she'd never really been faithful to him. Not in heart or body. She'd always wanted more, more than a life settled down with a man she would scream during their frequents fights had no ambition, more than a life with a child she'd never really wanted.

Then there had come the day when she had stopped wanting more and simply gone out seeking it. A note left on the fridge saying, "There has to be better than this. Take care of our boy. Jean." Not even an "I love you, I'm sorry." Nothing. No sign that there had ever been love between them. Just the empty coldness of a letter which had probably taken all of ten seconds to scribble out.

The bitterness had been overwhelming. The loneliness even more so. The dark thoughts had started around that time, consuming his every waking moment, making him think of and even consider acts of violence which up until that time had seemed unfathomable. Slowly, but surely, these acts, not yet committed, only dreamt about, had started to take an almost romantic vibe.

They had seemed to call to him.

Like she had. Not his wife.

Her. Beautiful, sweet, too slim her.

A soft whimper beneath him brought his attention back to the here and now. He glanced down at her and saw that her jaw had clenched. He reached out and touched her cheek and she shuddered.

He closed his eyes and prayed for calm. Told himself that her reaction had been an accident. She hadn't meant to do it.

Not hadn't meant to do it like Jean had claimed that she hadn't meant to cheat on him. But hadn't meant to do it in a real way. In an honest way. Because, he reminded himself forcefully, Kate was nothing like Jean. Kate was honest and true. That was her strength. That was her beauty.

"No," he said, reminding her. "Don't do that. Don't ever do that."

And so, like a well trained dog – a comparison he himself wasn't all that fond of – she obeyed, forcing herself to release just a bit. He touched her again and this time, she allowed it.

Again, she moaned. To him it sounded like bliss.

Tucker returned his mind back to their first meeting. How he'd walked right up to her and introduced himself. How she'd replied with a warm, "Kate," and then offered her hand. How her shake had been soft, but terribly, shockingly strong. That seemed to him to be an apt description of Kate overall. Soft, but strong. Yeah, he liked that.

He'd told her that their kids were in the same class, suggested maybe a play date. She'd accepted immediately, seemed a bit relieved. She'd told him that she was a stay at home mom and sometimes she got terribly tired taking care of her little ones. She'd said that school was a sanity saver, but that her little girl, since she was only in kindergarten, was only in class the first half of the day. And apparently she was a wild one, always racing around, always moving.

So a play date, she'd said, blue eyes flashing majestically, had sounded just wonderful. He'd suggested the first one at the park in the middle of town and again, she'd seemed relieved. Boundaries after all. She was married. Her wedding ring had gleamed brightly in the afternoon sun.

The date had gone wonderfully. He and Kate had talked for over an hour as their kids had played with each other. The children didn't quite get along, but that was mostly because her daughter was so outgoing and his son was almost morbidly, even pathetically shy.

Still, the day had been perfect.

Until Matthew had shown up. Handsome with brown hair and eyes and a swagger that seemed cut from an old Hollywood movie, he'd come up and wrapped his arms around Kate, kissed her, held her. Drawled out, "Hey, babe." Like he was a cowboy or something. So easy. So comfortable.

And she'd folded into him. That same easy, effortless comfort.

Tucker could still remember the intense hatred that had surged through his body. Matthew was something of a local celebrity around town, a young lawyer with a gifted tongue that might have made Cicero jealous. He was charming, good-looking and in all fairness, a nice man.

In a different world, in one in which Matthew hadn't won the girl like the star football player would the prom queen, he might have even liked the man. But that was a different world.

In this one, Matthew had been dying since the moment Tucker had reached out and shaken his hand.

Matthew aside, his relationship with Kate had continued for several months like this. Frequent dates, all involving their children who had never really grown to like each other and probably never would. But they hadn't cared. Kids would be kids and the adults needed their adult time. And so since September, three times a week they'd met. And talked like old friends.

Like soulmates, he liked to think. Because surely the things she told him, the concerns and doubts she confided in him, they were things one only told their dearest friend. Their most important one.

It had all led up to today. To this moment. To this wonderful moment where he and Kate had finally given in and come together as one.

It had started with a simple offer to pick her five year old up from school. She'd been unsure and he loved that about her. She'd said that her daughter could be fussy and he'd already known that. She'd protested that her little angel could be a real pain in the ass around naptime and he'd replied that that was no problem because unbeknownst to her, he'd known that, too.

Kate had never realized just how much he knew about every part of her.

Every part.

He knew that Matthew, who drove an old black Ford truck which probably should have been replaced, but never would be because he had been given the vehicle by his father, was a playful man who liked to touch his wife a lot. He seemed fond of wrestling with her, tumbling with her. And he liked to sneak up on her, too. Scare her a bit. Make her jump.

He knew that her son loved to collect action figures, knew that he was currently working on the He-Man ones. Knew that he was trying to find a Teela one because He-Man needed a girl.

He knew that her daughter, who her mother called Jenny, but who hated that name, loved chocolate. He knew that a week and a half ago she' crept downstairs in the middle night while her parents had been sound asleep upstairs and she'd broken up a box of chocolate cake mix. Knew that the little blonde child had eaten every bit of the powder and then, presumably overwhelmed by the sugar, had collapsed face first onto the ground, only to be found hours later by her father who hadn't stopped laughing for almost twenty minutes. Kate had tried to be angry with both husband and daughter, but had managed neither well and simply eventually said, "well, one day when she gets married, at least we can embarrass her with this."

He also knew that Kate had always wanted to buy a puppy for the family, but couldn't because in a cruel stroke of irony, she was allergic to dog hair. And so she settled with having a calendar of various dogs on her refrigerator. She even liked to name them. It was terribly cute.

Yeah, Tucker thought with a smile, he knew a lot about her and her family. Which, of course, made sense.

Because they were soon to be his family. His daughter. His second son.

Again, beneath him he heard a whimper. "Shh," he told her and immediately, she fell silent. He fell a rush of pride go through his lean frame. He was proud of himself for being such a good teacher and proud of her for being such a quick student.

But then, he reasoned, perhaps it was less him than the sight of her husband lying dead on the ground, just a few feet away from the bed. That could certainly rob a girl of her wild spirit.

No, he quickly corrected himself. Matthew was of the past. The future was now. With him. He wanted that. She wanted that. He knew she did.

He'd known the moment she'd walked into his house late that afternoon, a big beaming smile on her face. She had reached out and touched him, her fingers clutching lightly around his shoulder for just a moment. "Thank you," she'd said. "You don't know how much today meant to me."

And he'd replied, "Trust me, it meant the same to me." For a brief second she'd seemed puzzled, but then that had passed and she'd called out for her daughter.

"Jenny!"

Her daughter had come running, had leapt into her arms. "Where's Daddy?" she'd asked.

"At home waiting for us. We have a surprise for you?"

"Really? What is it?" the little girl had cried out, such joy in her tone. Tucker could remember glancing towards the stairs of his house, wondering why his own son seemed so incapable of expressing the same kind of glee.

"Can't tell you 'til we get home," Kate had replied. And little Jenny had nodded quickly. And started leaning towards the doorway.

Desperately trying to get home to her surprise. To her daddy.

And in that moment, he'd known that the time had come. A few seconds later he'd bid Kate and Jenny goodnight, knowing full well that he'd see them later.

Knowing damn well that the next time he saw them, he'd making them his.

When he'd got to the house that night, he'd been stunned to find the kids gone. He'd heard Matthew say something like, "Thank God for your sister." That had apparently been the surprise, sending them off to their favorite aunt's house, where spoiling would likely be aplenty.

Or so he figured. Of the aunt, he actually knew little. He cared even less. The kids would come back to him soon enough.

One night would make little difference, he reasoned.

Not in their lives going forward.

He'd peered through the window and watched with furious hatred as Kate had giggled and slapped her husband's arm lightly. She'd said something about him defiling her and this time Matthew had laughed.

Tucker had not.

He'd waited for them to go upstairs before he'd made his move, sliding up and through the window that led into their son's bedroom. He'd been in her only once before, when Kate had given him a tour of the house during his first visit to the little two story Victorian. It had been during that walkthrough when he'd noticed just how easy it would be to use that as a way inside. That had been the night he started thinking about her nonstop. Dream after dream. Until owning her had become an obsession.

After glancing around the young boy's room once more, he had turned and walked down the hall. Taking care to walk softly, he'd heard the sounds of Matthew and Kate's lovemaking echoing through the house and his rage had started to built to near blinding levels.

By the time he had entered their bedroom, all he'd seen in front of him had been a solid spray of angry red.

Matthew had never seen him, but Kate had.

Above them both with a butcher knife stolen from the kitchen. With Kate's screams as background music, he'd stabbed Matthew three times.

He was quite certain that Matthew had been dead after the second one.

She'd pleaded for him to stop and then when it was done, when it was obvious to even her that Matthew was gone and couldn't be saved, she'd asked him, no – begged him – to tell her why he was doing this.

He'd simply replied, "For you. For us."

And then he'd made her his, teaching her quickly and with brutal efficiency that screaming was not acceptable.

Now, beneath him, he was thrilled by how quickly she'd taken to the lesson. She was accepting him in every way, letting him in. Letting him-

"Please," she suddenly whispered and he blinked, not quite sure that he'd heard what he thought he had.

"What?" he demanded hoarsely, pressing down, letting his weight fall fully onto her. He could hear the sound of the mattress creak in protest.

"Please, stop," she said again and tear leaked down her cheek. That was when he realized, much to his horror and shock, that she'd been crying for awhile, weeping silently.

Once again, his rage built. He hit her hard. Warned her to remember her training. But suddenly she couldn't or wouldn't. Suddenly she was hysterical, thrashing, moving, trying to push him off and away.

He couldn't tolerate that. Wouldn't tolerate that. No, not after all he'd done for her. Not after he'd removed Matthew from their lives, paving the way for them to be together.

And damn her if she wasn't thanking him with a whimpered plea for help.

It was too much. She wouldn't stop so he reached forward and placed his hands around her throat. He squeezed hard, not to kill her, not to hurt her, just to silence her. Just to make her stop acting like he was a threat to her, like he wanted to harm her.

But harm her he accidentally did. She stopped breathing after just a few moments, her blue eyes locked upwards and staring back at him.

It was a brutal horrible shock. But one that like the rest of his life, he simply accepted and let change him.

As he'd fled into the cold Pennsylvania night, he'd known then that the darkness had finally taken him and there was no going back.

And suddenly, somehow, he was absurdly thankful for that.

* * *

"Christ, Bobby, up here," Officer Scott Hale called out to his partner on the first floor of the house. He turned and looked around the room.

It seemed clean enough, some blood here and there, but hardly a bloodbath. Still, the emotional carnage was on wild display. Something damned horrible had happened in here.

Matthew lying naked on the floor, discarded like cheap trash, a knife stuck in his back, his face scrunched up in unimaginable pain.

And Kate on the bed, a blanket thrown almost reverently over her. Hale crossed over to her and pulled it back. He sighed as he gazed down at her, looked into those now fogged over eyes.

"They both-" Officer Bobby Max asked as he entered the room. The kid was a rook and was already showing off a little green around the gills.

"Yeah," Hale replied thickly, knowing that he'd never get these mental images out of his mind, knowing that they'd haunt him for the rest of his days. "You'd best call it in. Matthew and Kate Jareau are both dead. "


	2. 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for all the kind words. They are appreciated. **

**Let me warn you in advance that as this story goes along, I will be taking quite a few character liberties as far as JJ's family background. I feel that they are necessary and I will do everything I can to keep them true to the character as presented on-screen.****The timeline of the central part of this story - the here and now - is sometime after S2, before S3, but as of right now with ASHES AND DUST being the last episode of canon. After that, well it's my jungle.**

**Additionally, I admit that I don't quite know the rules of how agents are promoted or things like that so I am taking some dramatic creative license. And finally, this section comes in at a PG rating, but this story will get MUCH darker.**

**Again, thank you and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

_  
April, 2000_

"_Wow, are you serious? The FBI? Why?" Amanda asked, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity, but a hint of disapproval as well. "I mean I thought you were going to go for one of the internships like the rest of us?" She was kicking around a soccer ball, bouncing it off her knees, not even paying attention, just doing it. She was talented like that._

_Jennifer Jareau smiled, knowing full well that she had no chance of explaining this to her school buddies. Her family hadn't reacted well to the announcement and they'd known her reasons? Her friends? No chance. She knew that not even the roommate who had been her best friend for almost four years would understand. _

_Mostly because things were different now. So terribly different._

_Abruptly, without warning, and unbeknownst to Amanda, three weeks earlier, their worlds had changed, separated. _

_They were no longer just two girls from the middle of the country who had found their way into college because of their skill at kicking a ball around. They were no longer just two small-ltown girls against the world._

_The truth of the matter was, JJ no longer felt like a girl at all._

_And so instead, she said with a small shrug of her shoulders, "I guess, Los Angeles isn't my kind of place."_

_And that was a lie because not too long ago her dream had been to work the desk of a major television network newscast. She'd always figured that she'd start off at a station like KTLA in LA and go from there. _

_Maybe even one day move her way up to a national anchor chair._

_Four words had changed that. _

"_But you'd be with us," Amanda insisted as the ball went up higher up in the air than she'd expected. JJ expertly fielded it, knocked it around a bit with her foot and then bounced it into her hands where she held it, spinning it between her fingers and palm. "You'd be with me," Amanda continued, almost like she was pleading with her best friend to reconsider her sudden and bizarre decision. " That was our plan, J. That's always been our plan. To do it together, right? Just you and me."_

_And again, JJ smiled because though she'd never say it, the amount in common she had with her college friends had shrunk to almost nothing thanks to those four words, delivered to her over Spring break._

"_I know," she replied. "I just… I can't explain it, Mandy, but I need to do this. I have to do this."_

_And that was true because those words had changed more than her hopes and dreams, but also her. They had changed her in a way that seemed to make everything so terribly clear. Including her purpose. Her life, which up until that point, even with her illusions of fame, had always been rather foggy and vague. Go to LA, impress a few people and hope for the best. It was all kind of sketchy after that._

_Now though…_

_Four heartbreaking words had brought her perfect clarity. So much in fact that she knew it would be impossible to explain without sounding crazed._

_Four words spoken quietly, in a shaking voice too small to even be called a whisper._

_Four simple words._

"_Your parents were murdered."_

* * *

July, 2007. 

Her first thought upon entering the building that the famed Behavioral Analysis Unit was housed in was, "Hotch is going to have my ass." Because traffic from her house had been hideous, because the line at the Starbucks had been too long and because her blankets had been entirely too warm, she was already running almost forty minutes behind.

Which beyond being unusual for her, meant that according to her watch, she was already almost twenty minutes late for a meeting with her boss, FBI Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Hotch wasn't nearly as anal retentive as everyone thought him, but he hated lateness. With something like a blind tearing passion.

Still, she tried to reason, it was a last minute meeting. He'd called late the evening before and told her that he needed to speak to her first thing in the morning. Hardly unusual, just a bit cramping when it came to her typical morning traditions and rhythms.

For some damn reason, her mind hadn't remembered the meeting until after she'd spent an extra five minutes curled up in bed. And the line at Starbucks, well she figured she could have jumped out of it, but once she'd realized that she was already late, it'd seemed a good idea to not make the day even worse by cutting caffeine out.

"Morning, JJ," Spencer Reid called out as she entered the bullpen. He was smiling slightly, that cute awkward little one that he had. Normally she'd have stopped by his desk to chat with him, to watch that awesome brain of his spin and cycle, kicking out some of the most bizarre and yet oddly fascinating things that she'd ever heard.

But she was just about twenty-two minutes late now and if she listened hard enough, if she inclined her head just a bit towards his office, well she thought she could hear the sound of steam pouring from Hotch's ears.

"Hey, Spence," she replied, hoping like hell that she didn't sound like she was blowing him off, but knowing that there was no way that she couldn't have.

He seemed to get the message that she was in a hurry and didn't say anything else, just rocked back in his chair and sipped his coffee. A quick thought, one she certainly didn't have time for, went streaking through her mind. She wondered what cup he was on. Because addicts went from drug to drug, she imagined he was already around five.

Well at least, she reasoned, this one wouldn't take him from them.

She shook the thought off. She could watch him later when she had more time for it. When she wasn't already twenty-three minutes late. Moving away from Reid, she quickly ascended the stairs towards Hotch's office on the second level. The door was closed.

She paused just outside the door for just a second and then, after taking a deep breath, she finally knocked. Rapidly. Three quick knuckle taps.

"Come in." Yep, she heard the irritation. She winced involuntarily.

Again, damn, damn, damn.

She pushed the door open and stepped in. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, almost before he could even see who had entered the room. She figured that she could have listed off the reasons that she was late, but decided not to. If Hotch hated tardiness, he abhorred excuses.

He nodded quickly, but his annoyance was obvious. When he spoke, there was something hard in his voice. "Shut the door and sit down."

"Okay," she replied, unable for all of her skills to hide her nervousness from him. Her mind very quickly went over the last few days, her work on the last case they'd been assigned to. Thinking back, she couldn't recall any mistakes she'd made. In fact, he'd complimented her on a job well done.

And yet, obviously, by the look on his face, she'd done something. It was a bit of a strange feeling, a little like a small child facing off against her disapproving father after she'd broken some prized possession of his.

She blinked and tossed that thought hastily away, almost before it formed. Hotch wasn't her father. He was her boss. Not a father, a boss.

"I got a call late last night from the Director," he told her, voice still cool, but perhaps a bit more conversational. His mood seemed to be lightening up, but there was still something there, like he was upset about something.

"Of the FBI?" she asked lamely, feeling a little foolish. He smiled slightly to acknowledge this, his lip quirking a bit in amusement. Which was odd, but she pushed on, because curiosity had gotten ahold of her "Why?"

"He's had a retirement on his staff. His personal press agent."

"Agent McCovey?" JJ asked. She'd attended every seminar that the senior and well respect agent had given over the last five years. In her mind, Agent Karen McCovey was about as brilliant as it got. The woman could spin anything she wanted into gold and usually within a second.

"Right. Her goodbye party will be next week and then after almost thirty years, well she'll be off to the Bahamas or something like that." There was something in his voice, something that sounded a little bit like envy.

"Okay…" She still wasn't quite understanding what this had to do with her. She wondered if she was being invited to McCovey's retirement party. She admitted to herself that that would be a hell of a score, this woman had big friends, the kind that could take you big places.

If that was where you wanted to go anyway.

"JJ, the Director wants you to take her position," Hotch told her suddenly, cutting to the chase. And when he did, it kind of felt like the air had been sucked from the room.

She blinked. "Excuse me." Again, her mind starting flying. Fast as lightning. She'd only been with the FBI for a few years. It was far too early for this.

"Agent McCovey recommended you."

"She did?" JJ said, feeling like her lips had suddenly gotten very fat. She knew McCovey, but it seemed unlikely that the woman knew her. Improbable even.

"She did," Hotch nodded. "She's apparently quite a fan of yours."

"Oh." It was all she could manage because in her head, none of this was making a lick of sense. Surely there had to be more experienced agents. Quite involuntarily, she found herself sneaking a look around Hotch's office, as if looking for Morgan. Maybe this was a practical joke…

"Apparently she's not the only one," Hotch continued. "The Director, well he's been watching you for awhile as well. He specifically mentioned your work on the Reese Briden case."

The Reese Briden case had been the one they'd just completed a week earlier. Based out of Seattle, Washington, he'd been a rather sadistic killer, one who liked to hang his victims from the ceiling off their bedrooms after he raped them. Once they'd discovered that he had been obsessed with how the media saw him and how afraid people were of him, It had been her job to get in front of the cameras and goad him into making a mistake. It'd been her job to infuriate him.

It'd been successful and he'd been caught almost effortlessly. Hopefully he'd be facing a needle soon enough. And if not that, steel bars for the rest of his natural life. Though in her mind, neither of those things came close to the amount of punishment he truly deserved.

Still, she thought to herself, pushing away her thoughts of vengeance, her work had hardly been unusual. Hardly novel. In fact, pissing off the bad guys almost seemed part of the job description now.

"I don't understand..." she finally managed.

"The director of the FBI wants you to join his staff," Hotch said simply. "It's a massive promotion, JJ. "

She nodded slowly, feeling like she was a bit disconnected from her body. Feeling almost like she was watching everything play out from just outside of herself. "When…when?"

"Two weeks from now. "

"Oh."

"He'd like to speak to you when you have a few minutes so that he can give you all the details. He's very excited about this."

"Okay."

"JJ?" Hotch said, leaning across his desk. "Are you alright? You've barely said more than two words at a time since we started this conversation."

She swallowed hard. Forced the words out. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. This is just…"

"A lot to take in. I know. But you deserve it. I told the Director that as well. In all of my years working as a DA and within this department, I have never had the pleasure of working with an agent as gifted in doing what you do as you are. You'll be stepping into a big pair of shoes, but I have no doubt in my mind that you'll excel every step of the way."

She blushed just a bit, had to look away. Then, finally, thickly, "Hotch, I'm not sure I want to leave here."

For a moment, he seemed shocked. His mouth opened and closed and JJ thought that he looked a little bit like a fish for a moment. She bit down on the absurd notion to laugh and instead waited for him to speak.

And finally he did. "JJ, believe me when I say that you'll be missed, but I don't…I wouldn't want us to stand between you and this opportunity."

"You think it would be a mistake not to take it?" Her voice small, again like a child. And once again she refused to allow the mental connection of his being a father figure to her.

He never hesitated though a large part of him wished he both could and would. "Yes, I think it would be a mistake."

"Okay," she said, going monosyllabic again. Hotch could see that she was still troubled.

"JJ?"

"I just, this job, Hotch, it gets into your blood. What we do, the difference we make. I'm not sure I know how to walk away from it."

"The job or the people?"

She smiled slightly, knowing that she'd been caught. "Both," she admitted. There was something unspoken there. Something he chose to leave alone because not only was now neither the time or the place for going into that, but also because when it came to one's personal demons, it was often best to let them broach the subject.

"Look, " he said gently. " Just go speak to the Director, listen to what he has to say. You'll have time to figure out everything else later."

Again, she nodded. "Okay. I'll...I'll call his secretary and see when I can set up a meeting."

"Good."

And that was it. The end of the meeting. Hotch lowered his eyes back to a paper on his desk. JJ stood up, glanced once back at Hotch and then exited, passing Jason Gideon as he entered the room.

"Sir."

"JJ," Gideon nodded, a smile on his lips telling her that he knew. She moved away quickly, down the stairs back towards the bullpen. "She thinking about declining the promotion?"

"I don't know," Hotch replied. "I'm not sure she knows what she's thinking yet. I'm sure it's all a bit overwhelming."

Gideon dropped down into the chair opposite Hotch. "It's hard," he said with a shrug. "Leaving."

"Harder for her."

"Yeah," Gideon acknowledged, placing a toothpick between his teeth and chewing it thoughtfully for a few moments. "But it would be a mistake for her to turn it down."

"That's what I told her."

"Yeah."

And for a moment, neither man said anything. Then, finally, Hotch asked, "Uh, was this what you came by for?"

"Oh, no. I just got sent a case from one of my friends over in San Diego. Four murders in the last six months. He's asked us to take a look." He handed over a folder which he'd been holding low against his body. Hotch opened it and flipped through it quickly, then looked up.

"Oscar Baron?" Hotch said, lifting an eyebrow. "One of your friends?"

"Mentor, friend," Gideon answered with a dismissive wave.

"Uh huh. Okay, give me a few minutes to look this over."

"Of course," Gideon replied, standing up. Then, turning back, he tacked on. "It would be a mistake." But he didn't so certain, almost like he was searching for confirmation of it.

"I know."

Then Gideon turned and exited, not needing to see the look of doubt on Hotch's face to know that it was there.

* * *

"Hey, you okay?" he asked from the doorway, a cup of steaming coffee clutched tight in his hand. With the amount of caffeine he'd ingested so far this morning, anyone else would be moving around like a Mexican jumping bean, but he seemed almost calm. Almost in control. 

One addiction to the next. But this one was okay. This one was okay.

She looked up and flashed him her best smile. "Great," she lied. "Just tired. I think they only put one shot in my coffee. Maybe I should get some of yours. Quad shot?"

"At least," Reid replied with a grin as he stepped into the office and sat across from her, taking in the stacks upon stacks of casefiles that were scattered every which way. And somehow he knew that she knew exactly where everything was.

Because she was JJ and she was good at that kind of thing.

And yet he could see that she was troubled about something, her mind whirling, turning things over in her head. Maybe it was a new case…

But since she wasn't talking about it, he chose to change the subject, chose to go for humor instead. "You hear about Morgan's night?"

"No," she replied. "But let me guess, he went out, found himself a beautiful girl, wined and dined her and then took her back to his–"

"She lifted his wallet."

Before she could stop herself, she laughed. It was more an indelicate snort than a laugh, but either way it was unintentional. Reid saw her hand fly up to her mouth, as if to stop it from happening again. Then, "Really?"

"Yeah. They never got past the…wine and dine stage." JJ almost laughed again. For some reason it was strange hearing Reid say "wine and dine". He gave her a strange look, but continued. "Apparently she said she had to get home to take care of her dog, gave him her phone number and then took off. When he tried to pay for dinner-"

"He came up wallet-less," Emily Prentiss said as she entered. Good news -or in this case news that could be used to mock their co-workers with – tended to spread quickly. "And had to call me to bail his ass out."

"Ouch," JJ grinned, slouching a bit in her seat. She felt the tension and pressure roll away from her shoulders.

"One hundred and thirty-three dollars. She ordered lobster."

"Smart girl," JJ nodded. Emily smirked, also clearly approving.

"She's a crook," Reid squeaked. "You two sound almost-"

"Proud of her," Morgan sighed as he walked in. He seemed a bit dismayed to see that he'd been beaten to the punch. "Look, before this gets around everywhere…"

"Oh, no, Derek, there's no before. It's already everywhere. If I were you, I'd get to Garcia before she gets in. Let her hear it from you first. Because if she finds out from say Agent Anderson, well I think her photoshopped pictures of you in stirrups will be the last thing you have to worry about," Prentiss snorted, settling a hand lightly upon on his shoulder.

He groaned. Then, "Wait. Stirrups?"

The girls laughed. Reid just looked mildly confused.

"Look," Morgan tried to justify. "It can happen to anyone."

"Sure," JJ nodded. "Anyone who isn't paid to be able to see through conmen and women."

He threw her a glare. She just grinned back at him.

"Tell me she at least had nice…" she made an upwards motion with her hands, right below her breasts. Reid made a deliberate decision not to look.

"Yeah," Morgan sighed, knowing that this wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Knowing that the girls would never let it go. And knowing that Prentiss was right, he had to get to Garcia before she heard from someone else, before she decided to have her own fun…

"Tell them about the phone number," Prentiss smirked. And this time she got the glare, which she seemed utterly unconcerned with.

"It was the answering machine for a phone sex line. Providing sixteen different numbers for different types of…services."

"I think she pegged you good, Derek," JJ grinned.

"So you are proud of her?" Reid asked with confusion. "Why?"

"Because," Emily told him. "It takes a massive pair of steel ones to order a thirty dollar lobster before ripping the guy off who's going to pay for it. And then to top it off by referring him to a sex line, well that's gold."

"You are far too amused with this," Morgan said, shaking his head.

"Yes, yes I am," Emily admitted.

"Good, you're all here," Hotch said as he, too, entered the room. Then, looking around at the group that was crammed into JJ's already too small office, he asked, "Why are you all in here?"

"We're talking about Morgan's love-life," JJ offered, to her credit trying to be subtle.

"Right," Hotch nodded before turning to Morgan and saying. "Have you canceled all of your credit cards yet?"

Morgan groaned.

"Hotch, what's up?" Emily asked, trying to bail him out.

"We may have a new case. Conference room in five."

"Great," Morgan said with a sigh of relief.

"Oh, no," Prentiss told him. "Even a case can't make this go away."

And he knew that was true. Shaking his head, he turned and exited the room, Prentiss close behind. Hotch glanced over at JJ, received a smile in response, one that seemed a lot more confident than he thought she was actually feeling. But it was enough for now so he, too, turned and left.

"You sure you're okay?" Reid asked suddenly.

JJ looked at him. She hated that he could read her so well. Even Hotch couldn't do that. Gideon either. But Reid…

"Of course," she said finally. Then, standing up. "Shall we?"

He nodded. He could tell that she was still bothered by something, but as it didn't seem to be serious, he decided that he could let it go for now. And so together, as arm in arm as they could get without actually being arm in arm, they exited the room.

He didn't miss the almost wistful glance she threw back at her office.

But wondering what it meant would have to wait.


	3. 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This section gets a bit dark and the rating can tend towards an R due to description of a violent crime. It's not graphic, just terribly intense(so I've been told).**

**Please see the first two chapters for any other warning or notes. **

**Once again, thank you for the kind words. They keep me going.**

* * *

_  
DECEMBER, 1983_

_At age twenty-two, a doctor had told Kristina Jareau that she would never be able to bear children. He had blamed it on a vicious childhood infection that had nearly killed her. With an appropriately somber face, he'd told her that he was so sorry. So very terribly sorry._

_She'd just closed her eyes and said, her voice cracking with shock and pain, that it didn't matter anyway. She hadn't wanted kids anyway._

_It'd been a lie, but one she figured that she could learn to live with._

_At age twenty-three, she'd found out that while she could never be a mother, she could be an aunt. Her brother, older than her by just eleven months, had announced over Christmas dinner that he and his new wife were expecting their first child in the spring._

_A boy, they'd found out quickly. A boy who was to be named David John, after their father, who had passed away many years earlier. Their mother had been delighted. No, ecstatic was probably the right word._

_Kristina could still remember Matthew and Kate asking her if she would be David's godmother. She had agreed without hesitation because this child, this perfect little boy with unruly brown hair like his father's, well he made her feeling of emptiness just a little bit less. _

_She figured she could play the doting aunt, the one who was always around, always letting the kids play. Always getting to see the kids laugh. _

_Every now and again, though, she'd feel a pang of jealousy, an irrational one at that, when she'd watch Kate kiss one David's bloody knees after he'd taken yet another spill. He'd cry in his mother's arms and she'd soothe him, stroking his hair back and peppering his face with kisses._

_It was hard not to feel a brief surge of envy. Not anger or spite towards Kate, no, never that. She adored Kate, but still, it was hard to know that she would never have the opportunity to do that with a child of her own._

_Two years later, the family had grown again. This time a little girl that they had named Jennifer. Kate had decided on the name, said that after what had felt like months of arguing, going back and forth between names like Samantha and Candace, she had decided to go simple._

_And besides, Jennifer was the name of a dear friend of hers from college, a girl who had been a star gymnast. And as Kate liked to remind everyone, she herself hailed from a family full of gymnasts._

_To which Matthew had replied, with that damnable smirk of his, that being a cheerleader was not the same thing as being a gymnast._

_He'd earned a well-deserved slap on the forearm for that._

_But God, Matthew and his little girl. Well if he'd been incorrigible with David(and he had been, utterly so), he was that much worse with Jennifer. Due to Matthew's inability to ever set his daughter down for longer than ten seconds at a time (including during naptime), Kate had taken to joking that Jennifer was going to grow up to be an insomniac. And she would have daddy to blame for that._

_Matthew's only reply had been, "Well then I guess JJ and I can go midnight fishing together, huh?"_

_And Kate had rolled her eyes because though Matthew had called his daughter it from day one, Kate had always hated that nickname. It sounded like a boy's name, she'd said. She'd been stubbornly insistent that her sweet little girl would grow up to be a ballerina or something romantic and pink like that._

_Matthew had countered with, "How about a goalie?"_

_He'd earned another slap on the forearm for that one. _

_And then a third when Kate had realized that much of the family had taken to calling Jennifer "JJ". Still she'd persisted with Jenny. Confident that eventually her daughter would take her side and choose the "pretty girl's" name over the "dirty boy's" one._

_Because it, like most things in the Jareau marriage, had been a playful game. If Jennifer had decided on JJ, Matthew would have become even more impossible and, if Jenny had eventually won out, well Kate would never have let him forget it._

_Of course, that day would never come._

_Kristina could still remember standing in the middle of her living room, the phone rested in her hand, held tightly like a club._

_It had been her mother on the other side, just seconds earlier. She'd been speaking in a voice that seemed impossibly low. She'd said that something awful had happened, that Kate and Matthew had been murdered in their own bedroom. She said she'd seen their bodies. Had confirmed their identities._

_What she hadn't said was what she hadn't needed to say. She hadn't said that she wasn't sure how she could go on, how she could possibly survive the loss of her oldest child._

_And then she had reminded herself – and Kristina – why they both had to be strong. "The children," she'd said. "They need us right now."_

_Kristina had agreed, barely able to speak, her lips numb and unmoving. Her mother had asked her if she should come over and be the one to speak to the kids. Kristina had found her voice then, said no, said that it was her job. Said that she could handle it._

_She'd known almost immediately that she'd been lying through her teeth._

_Finally, putting down the phone, she'd slowly made her way over to the kids. They had been seated in front of the television, both of them watching cartoons. Jennifer had had her fingers inside of a bowl of Cheerios made soggy with entirely too much milk._

"_Hey, guys," Kristina had said, dropping down to a knee in front of them. "Can we turn the TV off and talk for a minute?" She could remember wondering just what in the hell she was going to say to them_

_Thinking that maybe something like, "hey kids, your parents were just butchered while you were playing chutes and ladders?" probably wasn't going to be the best way to go._

"_Please," she'd said again, when neither Jennifer nor David had moved an inch._

_Jennifer had looked up at her briefly, then gone back to playing with her bowl of cereal. It had occurred to Kristina that her tiny blonde niece had been attempting to drown the Cheerios._

_Attempting to suffocate them._

_Somehow, the irony was just too bitter._

_Reaching forward, she'd grabbed the bowl from Jennifer and yanked it away from the child, practically throwing the ceramic container across the room. The small girl had reacted with a yelp of fear and surprise._

"_What's wrong?" David had said suddenly, his eyes large and serious. He'd turned the TV off and then slid a comforting arm around his little sister, who was sniffling her tears away._

_And in that moment, Kristina had known that David was exactly her brother's son._

_Because where as Matthew had been well known for his goofy and playful side, he'd also been an incredibly strong man. One capable of being a rock of logic and calm._

_Staring down at David, in that brief moment, Kristina could recall seeing Matthew in him. Seeing that cool calm and logic._

_Even at seven._

_It had struck her as being horribly unfair for a child to have need to be so serious_

_But then life was kind of like that, rarely fair._

_At twenty-two years old, Kristina Jareau had been told that she would never be able to have children. At thirty years of age, she had become legal guardian to both her nephew and niece._

_And that day, as she'd knelt down in front of them, fighting like hell not to break down, she'd made a choice to lie to them._

_She'd told David and Jennifer that their parents had been killed in a car crash. She'd told them that they hadn't suffered and that they were up with God now. Up with the angels above._

_It was a lie that she would continue telling for seventeen years._

_A lie she would even leave town to protect. Because loose lips and all that and she had known that in a small town, people would talk._

_So she had taken the kids to a town just down the road. A town where the Jareau name hadn't meant nearly as much to nearly as many. A town where they could all start over._

_She'd rationalized it. Told herself that t hey were kids who didn't need to know the truth. They wouldn't understand it anyway. _

_And that had been true. It had taken Jennifer a very long time to understand that daddy would never be walking through the front door again, arms wide to catch her. Even David had had his moments of forgetting. His moments of calling out for his mother when he was in pain._

_It'd been a strange reality for Kristina, the first time she had realized that it now fell to her to be the one to kiss the boo-boos away._

_Something she'd always wanted. Something she felt guilty now having._

_Something she would given back in a minute if she could have._

_At first, there had been arguments between she and her mother. Her mother had wanted to take the children, said that she'd had more experience and that it made more sense for her to raise the kids. And more than once, Kristina had almost given in, almost agreed that she had no business trying to bring up Matthew and Kate's children._

_But, in the end, all arguments aside, all logic be damned, it was Jareau stubbornness and pride that had won out._

_That and her need to hold onto Matthew in some way. To have some part of him always near to her. Because letting go of him, letting go of the big brother who had always protected her, always adored her and always been there for her, it simply wasn't a possibility._

_Growing up, she'd been too small and frail because of the same illness which had robbed her of her ability to have children. Matthew had been handsome and popular. He could have left her to own devices, left her to her own unfortunate solitude, but that had never been his way. His rule had been simple and absolute, "she's with me or you're not."_

_And so she had always been ._

_And so he would always be._

_That was her rule, too._

* * *

JULY, 2007.

Reid and JJ were the last to enter, the two of them engaged in a soft-spoken, under their breath conversation as they walked into the conference room. JJ laughed at something he said, he just grinned.

"Nice of you two to join us," Morgan teased. He'd already taken hell that day thanks to his mates telling anyone who would listen about how a girl had lifted his wallet. Now, it was time for some payback.

Reid blushed, but JJ, for her part, just rolled her eyes. His reaction might have made one think that there was something going on between the two, but hers seemed to quiet the buzz.

But then, that was her job.

Never letting anything get out of control unless she wanted it to.

And even then, it was only the perception of loss of control. The reality was likely far different.

They took their seats, Reid nursing a cup of steaming coffee. Morgan held up his hand, showed all five fingers. JJ shook her head and then held up her own palm and added another finger. Six. Morgan whistled.

Reid looked away, coloring a bit. It was no secret that he'd become even more of a caffeine junkie in the aftermath of his stint in drug rehab. In fact, it was almost a joke around this place. Something everyone felt comfortable and safe with.

When Reid looked up again, Morgan was grinning at him. But it was a gentle one, slightly cautious, as if to ask, "was that too much?"

Because even now, even weeks removed from rehab, they were still worried about him, some of them still walking on eggshells around him.

And so he smiled back at his friend, let him know that he was okay. That he could take the jokes, that he even rather welcomed them.

"Okay," Gideon said, interrupting the silent conversation. He stepped into the middle of the room. "I was just sent a case from a former colleague of mine who consults with the San Diego Police Department. He's asked for our immediate assistance."

He dropped down a stack of hastily copied off papers. Reid grabbed one, handed another to JJ, who couldn't stop her eyebrow from arching.

Normally it was her job to prepare a presentation for these meetings, to put their cases together in a nice neat folder, each page numbered and carefully lined up. Each part of the file something useful and helpful.

This, however, well this was vintage Jason Gideon. Disorganized, haphazard and yet utterly compelling just the same.

"Oscar Baron," Reid said suddenly, looking up. "He's a friend of yours?"

"Try mentor," Morgan corrected.

"I…I…I've read every book he's published, I even have some of his lecture tapes," Reid prattled on, eyes bright. Then he turned to the side, saw the girls looking at him, both of them unable to hide their amusement. "Uh, I mean, I'm a fan."

Morgan snorted, then said "God, Baron has to be upwards of eighty by now."

"Eighty-two and still smart as ever," Gideon defended. JJ thought she heard some pride there. And why not? Oscar Baron was a bit of a legend around Quantico. The man was apparently sharp as a katana and twice as intense. It'd been said that he had once, back during his days as a GI, been taken prisoner and that he'd talked his way free. No one knew for sure if it was true, but there wasn't anyone who dared to doubt it either.

"Okay, we're dealing with four families," Hotch said suddenly, placing several color photos down onto the table. Each showed a family portrait, the exact same configuration in each. Husband, wife, son, daughter.

"The perfect family," Morgan said, reaching for one of the pictures.

"From what we've been able to put together, the Unsub sneaks into the house at sometime after midnight. He finds a way to barricade the children into their bedrooms and then he goes into the master. He kills the husband first."

"With a hunting knife," Emily put in, lifting up one of the crimescene photos. "Pretty messy. A lot of blood. A lot of anger."

Hotch nodded, then continued, "He then rapes the wife. After he's done, he eviscerates her."

"Then he moves on to the children," Gideon murmured, glancing down at the pictures on the side of the table, the ones that no one had yet been able to pick up. Even seasoned profilers had problems with seeing children hurt.

"In each case, he's killed the boy first," Hotch told them, his words very slow and deliberate. Almost like a schoolteacher trying to lead his students down a very specific path.

"Oh, God," JJ said suddenly, as she flipped the page. Her face scrunched up in disgust and Hotch knew that she'd read ahead. And just like a schoolteacher, he rather wished she hadn't.

But she had and so now he no choice but to go where she had.

"He makes the little girl watch her brother be murdered in front of her, his throat slashed as well and then he ties her down and sexually assaults her," Hotch finished, his voice very controlled. Too controlled.

It was all he could do not to scream.

"And then he kills her in the same way that he killed her mother," Emily said, a great deal of disgust in her voice. "The exact same way."

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, finally, Morgan asked, "No messages left? Nothing at all?"

"No," Gideon told him. "Not even an unknown mark left on the bodies."

"So this isn't about ownership," Reid said, thinking aloud.

"What about DNA?" Emily queried.

"None. He's used a condom in each of the attacks," Hotch replied.

"That's odd," Reid spoke up. "I mean, for someone showing the amount of fury he is, to take the time to make sure he doesn't leave any of himself behind, that seems almost…controlled."

"So…not a disorganized killer then?" JJ asked. She'd learned a lot in her time with the time, but sometimes still found herself groping for their terms.

"Depends on his agenda," Emily answered.

"Agenda? So you think these attacks were planned?" JJ pressed.

"I would think 'yes'," Emily replied. "There seems more at play here than just raw fury and compulsion. Maybe for some reason or another, the Unsub had a grudge against these people."

"Or these kind of people," Gideon countered.

"What do you mean?" JJ asked.

"All of these families, all four of them, they look almost picturesque. Like Morgan said, the perfect family. In each case, mom is a pretty blonde with blue eyes, and dad is handsome and strong looking. And in each of the families, there's a boy child and a girl child," Gideon answered.

"Maybe he's a kid whose family gave him up for adoption," Morgan suggested.

"If he goes back and finds out that the parents who gave him up created the great American family without him, that could certainly piss a guy off," Emily put in.

"All of this is possible," Hotch nodded. "But we won't know until we get there. We're wheels up in thirty, people."

And with that, the meeting was over. Immediately, everyone started to get up and move around, each mentally ticking off their checklists of what they needed to do before they made their way to the tarmac.

"JJ," Hotch called out as the group started to thin. She turned back towards him and smiled and he could tell that she was hoping that he wasn't going to broach the subject of the job offer.

"Were you able to make the call to the Director's secretary?"

"No," she admitted. "I'd just sat down when…well, everyone came in."

"You have thirty minutes," he said. "Make the call."

She nodded, wanting to say something, but being far too adult and mature to do so.

And yet, briefly and in the back of her mind, she couldn't help, but wonder if Hotch was actively trying to push her out the door.

* * *

"Can you imagine," Emily Prentiss started, glancing down at one of the family portraits. "You tuck your kids into bed, you kiss them goodnight and then you walk down the hall. You think to yourself that maybe this is what it's all about. Maybe someone reached down and kissed you on the forehead. You crawl into bed, kiss your spouse goodnight and close your eyes. You have no idea that this man is standing outside of your window, just waiting to destroy it all."

"You're taking this awful personal," Morgan noted as he dropped down into the seat opposite her. As he settled, he could feel the light vibration of the plane beneath him. It'd been smooth sailing so far, but he could still feel it. The way the jet glided effortlessly from side to side.

For a guy like Derek Morgan, who far preferred to have both feet on the ground, being up in the air was always something that was in his mind. Always there, always stirring right below the surface.

Because in the air, he had no control.

In the air, all of his tactics, all of his strength, none of it meant a damn thing. If the plane fell, being able to bench press three of Reid wasn't going to do him a bit of good.

Still, he'd at least gotten used to it.

At least learned to push it to the back of his mind.

"Personal? No. I mean not anymore than usual," Emily replied, shaking her head. "I just…I can't get these little girls faces out of my head. Everything else I can deal with. I hate to say it, but we've seen it all before, but this, Derek, this is just wrong."

"I hate to say, it" Derek responded, his voice very soft, "But I've seen this before, too. And you know what, it never gets easier."

"Oh."

"Coffee, Emily?" JJ said, suddenly appearing from above them. Emily blinked, certain that the blonde hadn't been there a mere three seconds earlier. She was holding two cups in her hand.

"Yeah, thanks," Emily answered, taking one of the cups.

JJ nodded and made her way away from them, back over to where the playing card table was. Reid was seated there, flipping through the casefiles, going over them time and time again.

"That for me?" Reid asked, without even looking up.

JJ glanced down at her coffee and laughed. "No, I think you've had enough for the day." Then, her tone lightening to one that made her next statement an obvious joke, she finished with, "Besides, your brain is already too fast."

And with that she dropped into the seat opposite him and placed the cup onto the table, next to the red-backed playing cards, next to the casefiles, most of which were closed, hiding the horrible details.

He shrugged off her comment with a smile. A small voice in his head told him to be offended, but he pushed it back. He'd gotten control over that voice, he'd gotten control over himself.

He was finding his way back to his old self.

Slowly, but surely.

"Spence, did I lose you?" JJ asked suddenly, her hand waving in front of his eyes. When he looked up at her, she was smiling at him, looking both mildly amused and slightly concerned. When he answered her with a shy smile of his own, her worry fell away.

"Uh, no, sorry, uh, just thinking."

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"Marilyn Dexter."

"The third wife?"

"Yeah," he nodded, but didn't elaborate.

After a few seconds, she said, "Okay…."

"Oh, sorry. I think she knew the Unsub."

"Why do you say that?" Hotch asked, turning around towards them. He'd been sitting in the seat that shared a back with the one JJ was in.

"Well, the police report says that the Unsub entered the Dexter house through an upstairs bathroom window, but if you look at the pictures of the house, you wouldn't know where that window was unless you knew. It's completely obscured by trees."

And then as if to prove his point, he pushed four photos of the Dexter house down into the table. The crimescene unit had been zealous in it's photography and almost every inch of the land around the residence had been documented. Including an upstairs window, which just as Reid had pointed out, was practically invisible to the naked eye.

"But he knew," JJ said. "Which means that he either had access to the floorplans…"

"Or was someone the Dexters trusted enough to have allowed into their house," Gideon finished. JJ startled a bit, not quite knowing where Gideon had appeared from. Last she could recall, he'd been sitting in the way back, flipping through his notebook, jotting down his thoughts.

"What about the other houses, any of the other entry points unusual?" Hotch asked Reid, who was still examining the photos.

"Not really. He entered through an upstairs room in each of the cases, using the roof to get him up and into the room."

"What about the windows?" JJ queried. "None of them were locked?"

"It's warm weather in San Diego right now," Gideon said. "The windows were probably open, letting in the air."

"Or maybe the Unsub left them unlocked himself," Morgan countered as he and Emily approached from the side. Emily put her barely sipped cup of coffee in front of Reid, who looked appreciative.

One glance over at JJ who was watching him with a slightly lifted eyebrow made him choose to decline the extra caffeine. Neither Morgan nor Emily missed the exchange between the two agents and if it had been any time but this one, any time when they weren't discussing the disturbing details of several murders, one of them would have commented on it.

But that teasing, that levity, that would have to wait for a more appropriate time.

"You think the Unsub was in the houses on the day of the murders?" Hotch asked. It was more a request for elaboration as opposed to a challenge.

"Why not?" Emily shrugged, picking up Morgan's line of thought. "It fits. The Unsub is likely obsessed with these families. For some reason or another, they either had something he wanted or they've upset him in some way. So he probably inserted himself into their lives, got close to them. On the day of the murders, he gets himself invited inside, gets a walk-around and then eventually excuses himself to use the bathroom."

"And that's when he creates his opening," Gideon nodded. Then, "She's right. It fits."

"Okay, but how does he get himself into their lives?" Hotch queried.

"Through their children," JJ said suddenly. She looked up at the others. "These families, they all have young kids. All of the boys were around the age of seven. All the girls were about five. These parents, their lives were probably nothing, but soccer, ballet, and baseball. If the Unsub has a kid of his own, one that fits somewhere in that age range, it wouldn't take a lot for him to be able to get close to the right kind of family."

"San Diego's a big city. He could move around with each kill. Enroll his kid in a new school. Pick a new family. Start the cycle again." Morgan put in.

"Okay," Hotch agreed. "If that's our theory, then let's get working on where all of these kids went to school. Let's see if we can't find a common face. And if not that, a kid who keeps coming and going."

"I'll get Garcia on it." Morgan said, reaching for his phone.

"Good," Hotch nodded. "In the meanwhile, it's a long flight to San Diego. I want everyone to try to get at least a few minutes of sleep in. This isn't going to be any easy one."

TBC.


	4. 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is slightly lighter in tone - a PG rating as opposed to the previous ones. It's all about setting up the chess board, as it were. I hope y'all don't find it too slow, but I appreciate any and all feedback. I hope you enjoy the read as much I enjoy the write.**_  
_

**One final note- it's been a VERY long time since I played soccer(rec or competitive) and I never was much for rules, but I did try my best to get the descriptions somewhat right. I was a HS athlete myself - just in a different sport. I hope it rings true. **

* * *

_May, 1994._

_Her palms were sweating._

_She turned in a half circle, looked to her left, looked to her right and then bent in towards the other girls, her pulled tight ponytail bouncing as she ducked down low._

"_This is our moment," fifteen-year-old Jennifer Jareau said, her blue eyes moving back and forth. She searched each of her friend's faces, looking for uncertainty, checking for fear._

_Seeing plenty of both. Knowing that it was inside of her as well._

_Hours seemed to pass before she spoke again. "We win this," she concluded. "Right now. Right here. We. Win. This."_

_Another pause and then Maggie Gilbert roared her approval. It sounded more like a growl, a truly primal noise. The other girls followed soon after, until it was practically a victory cry. _

"_Hands in," JJ ordered, feeling the energy, feeling the electricity. It coursed through her. It controlled her._

_There were moments when she hated this. Times when she wanted to shrink back from the competition, wanted to step away from the pressure._

_Sometimes it felt like a ten ton weight on her shoulders._

_Her father had always wanted a star goalie. Her school had always wanted a championship team._

_She had always wanted to be something special._

_Sometimes, it was just too damn much._

_But now, standing in the middle of the group, all of their eyes on her, the youngest Varsity team captain in school history, all she could think about was winning. _

_All she could think about was conquering._

_She'd been given this position because people liked her, trusted her, knew that she'd always give everything she had every moment of every game._

_She was good. Maggie was better. Senior Jess Bentley was even better, one of the most gifted scorers in the state._

_She was the third best player on the team. A second year Varsity player with others above her with far more seniority._

_But none of them could lead quite like she could. None of them could control things, mold attitudes. Not like she could._

_She knew how to get the others to give when they had nothing left to give. _

_She knew how to make them win._

_Her aunt said that it was a gift she'd inherited from her mother._

_A natural ability to make people listen._

_Their hands came together quickly, piling on._

_And she realized that all of their palms were sweating._

"_On three," Maggie directed, meeting her eyes. Maggie was her her very best friend. The one person she'd always been able to count on, come hell or highwater._

_And now she was smiling._

_Because she saw in her blonde friend exactly what she needed to see. Exactly what she knew would be there._

_No matter what JJ said to the opposite._

_JJ was a fighter._

_JJ was a winner._

"_One, two, three," JJ called out, her voice sharp, her voice demanding attention, commanding compliance._

_And then together, as a team, the group cried out, "Fight like hell." The words were said quickly enough that the adults around had no idea what they'd said._

_And then together, as a team, they came out of the huddle and moved back onto the field. JJ glanced over at her coach, a small man with a big smile. He nodded at her._

_She turned and nodded at Maggie. Who grinned like it was nothing. Like it was in the bag._

_A look up at the clock, the clock which showed a tie score with less than a minute to go said otherwise._

_They were already in double overtime. The team had never really been good at kick-offs, which meant that they were already in a sudden death match-up._

_In more ways than one._

_It'd been an emotionally rough season full of euphoric ups and devastating downs. And now It all came down to this. A tie would drop them out of the playoffs. A win would put them in._

_It was that close. It meant that much._

_She trotted over to her position, between the goalposts. And took a breath. She pulled on her gloves, glad that they were covering up the sweat on her palms._

_Glad that they were concealing the bleeding out of her nerves._

_She hoped that there would come a time when she'd learn to control those nerves. _

_Own those nerves._

_She turned slightly, looked towards the sidelines. And her bright blue eyes met his playful brown ones._

_He grinned at her. Impishly. And then he winked._

_Suddenly, she felt the fear slide away. _

_Good ol' David._

_Her aunt was standing next to him, clapping away. Cheering her on. David wasn't saying a word. He was just looking right at her._

_Not telling her that she could do it._

_Telling her that she would do it._

_She heard the whistle, felt her spine stiffen. _

_And then everyone started to move. At first slowly and then frantically. Her eyes tracked the ball, watched the violent rotation of it as it jackknifed across the field._

_She jerked to the left. Jerked to the right._

_The ball came towards her, but was stopped and pushed back across the line. Maggie took a shot and for half a second, JJ thought it might have a chance._

_But then it was bounding back towards her and she felt her gut clench. She cracked her knuckles and waited._

_It never came, instead dribbling off to the right._

_She looked up at the scoreboard and flinched. Thirteen seconds left. All of that, all of that nothing, it had taken too long. _

_Desperation came over her first. And then the Jareau stubbornness settled down on her._

"_We win this," she said to herself, her voice hard and controlled, leaving no room for argument._

_No room for failure._

_She felt her feet move almost before she commanded them to. Wind cracked against her cheeks as she flew up the field._

_Briefly, as she ran, moving faster than she'd ever moved before, she caught sight of her brother's face._

_He was laughing. He was yelling._

"_Get 'em, J," he was screaming. "Get 'em."_

_It took her only seconds to reach the halfway line._

_Seconds which meant that she now had only moments to make something happen._

_She saw the ball spin up into the air, thrusting up like geyser as it bounced off the top of Maggie's head. She saw Maggie's frustration. Saw her fear. Saw her fear of failure._

_But there was no time for that now._

_There was only time for action._

_And so as the ball came down, JJ spun, her foot and leg ending up high above her head as she tumbled backwards, down towards the earth, having completed a picture perfect bicycle kick._

_When the ball went through the goal, with only one second left on the clock, she was lying on her stomach on the ground, her face dirty, blood seeping from a small scrape on her cheek. _

_Then she heard Maggie scream, a noise that blended almost perfectly with the loud buzz that signaled the end of the game._

_All of the other sounds, well they merged together. Became one. Victory from one side, defeat from the other. Triumph from one bench, utter defeat from the other._

_She closed her eyes and felt the rumble of the earth beneath her. Her teammates grabbed her, lifted her, yanked her and eventually tossed her back to the ground as they dogpiled her._

_Somewhere in the background, she could hear her aunt screaming. And she was pretty damn sure that she heard David yell out, "That's my sister!"_

_And smiling, covered up completely by screeching girls, all she could think was, "I owned my nerves. I won."_

* * *

JULY, 2007.

They had all tried to sleep, but turbulence had made that impossible. And a disastrous extended refueling stop in Atlanta hadn't helped, instead adding an additional four and a half hours onto their already long trip.

Worse, they hadn't been able to sleep on the plane during that layover because airport mechanics had wanted to check a potential problem with the wing.

They'd wanted everyone off. Told them that it was just for their safety. Promised them that they'd be quick about dealing with the problem. Have them on their way in no time.

The wing problem had ended up being nothing at all.

Which was a lot like the amount of sleep that any of them had managed to get.

As for on their way in no time, well four hours of trying to find a comfortable way to sleep in hard plastic chairs said otherwise.

Even trying to steal a few moments of shut-eye laying flat on the ground hadn't really helped much.

And so as the BAU team dragged their weary bodies through the San Diego International Airport terminal, Hotch found himself almost amused.

Almost. The clock on the terminal wall, which showed the time to be just a tick after nine, muted that mirth.

Still…

Reid looked like a rumpled ten year old. Morgan was blinking repeatedly, trying to appear awake, but failing miserably. And the girls, well both JJ and Prentiss weren't even bothering to try to hide their frequent yawning.

Only Gideon seemed fully awake.

But then Gideon also seemed a little bit like an overeager child right now.

Oscar Baron probably had something to do with that.

Hotch had never met Baron, only knew him, as most did, by reputation. But Gideon had told him stories.

More than a few. Each one more unbelievable than the last.

And yet all of them, somehow or another, undoubtedly true.

"Maybe we should check into the hotel first," he suggested to Gideon, lowering his voice just a bit.

Gideon glanced back at them, saw JJ cover her mouth with her hand as she yawned into it. Saw her blink away a shiver of exhaustion as it worked its way through her slim frame.

But it was Reid nearly tripping and falling over himself that cinched the decision.

"Good idea," Gideon finally nodded, pretending not to watch as JJ gently righted Reid. He saw her whisper something into his ear, saw the young genius flush a bright red.

And not for the first time, he wondered what was going on between them.

But then she moved away from. Not quickly, not like she was trying to hide something. More like she was letting him stand up on his own.

And he did it.

He'd been doing it for awhile now, Gideon reflected with a flash of pride.

"I know you wanted to see Baron tonight," Hotch continued, his pace still quick as they moved towards the baggage claim. They were several strides ahead of the others, enough where they probably didn't need to whisper.

But they were anyways.

A little bit like parents, Gideon thought to himself, wincing with the realization that not only was that true, but there was also nothing he could do about it.

Though if he were perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't all that sure that there was anything that he did want to do about it.

"He'll still be there tomorrow," Gideon shrugged, waving his hand dismissively.

"Okay. I'll call Detective Palmer over at the San Diego PD and let him know that we've arrived and we'll check in first thing in the morning."

"And I'll take care of getting the rental car," Gideon nodded. Then he stopped and turned to face Hotch. "I'm dad at least, right?"

Hotch just smirked and walked away, lifting his phone to his ear as he moved. Gideon watched after him for a moment and then turned and headed towards the rental car booth.

* * *

They'd all agreed to meet for dinner at ten-thirty, down at the hotel restaurant on the first floor. Thankfully, the cozy little dinner was open until midnight.

JJ had arrived first, having changed from her neat travel slacks into a pair of loose jeans and a sweatshirt. It altered her appearance from professional to almost…well…cute.

At least so Reid had thought as he'd settled down into the seat next to hers. He hadn't bothered changing, figuring why waste another set of clothes on a one hour dinner.

Morgan had arrived next, in jeans and a tee-shirt. Emily had showed up a few seconds after that, also in jeans. "You're lucky," she'd told them as she had dropped into her chair, her bottom wearily smacking against the wood seat. "I almost wore sweats."

"Did they have holes in them?" Hotch had asked as he'd come up to the table, also still in his travel clothes, sans only the dress jacket. His voice had been dry, but the joke had been obvious to everyone but Emily, who'd flushed a bright red.

And stammered out a weak, "No…no, sir."

"Relax, Prentiss," Gideon had told her, completing the team, he still in the same devil-may-care clothes that he always wore. "We all have them."

And then abruptly, JJ had snorted. Because the image of Hotch in holey sweats had almost been too much for her, especially in her fatigued state.

She'd gotten looks for that. A quirked eyebrow from Reid, a grin from Morgan that said that he'd gotten the joke.

A gaze from Hotch which told her that he had as well.

That had been fifteen minutes ago.

Now, waiting for their food to arrive, they had all lapsed into silence, too tired to even go for aimless small talk.

Finally, Morgan said, "I had a thought. About our killer."

The others turned towards him, oddly never too tired to talk about work.

And so Morgan sipped from his soda and then continued, "The layout, I think that's the key. Blonde wife, brunette husband, a boy and a girl child."

"Their ages are very specific as well," Reid noted. "The boy is always seven and the girl always five."

"So wait," Emily asked. "We're thinking maybe he was seven when something happened to his family?" Her voice betrayed her confusion, something she attributed to her exhaustion and the fact that around these people, she could show that kind of weakness.

"I'm not sure we know what we're thinking just yet," Hotch said. "But I tend to agree with Morgan. The exactness of the family, it most certainly means something."

"Okay, here we go," the waiter said as he arrived. He was a man with brown hair and light seafoam green eyes. Not handsome, but hardly unattractive either. His eyes flickered around the table, taking in the faces of each the agents. Then, he smiled shyly and began to put the dinner plates down.

Just soup for the girls. A massive hamburger for Morgan. Pancakes for Reid. A BLT for Hotch. A chicken salad sandwich on rye for Gideon.

Morgan glanced up at the man's nametag, saw that it said Tyler. And so he said, "Thanks, Tyler."

Seeming terribly appreciative for the recognition, Tyler nodded and continued putting the plates down. He stumbled a bit when it came to JJ, slopping a bit of her soup onto the table. "Sorry," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she replied immediately, using her napkin to quickly mop up the chicken noodle soup mess. Two swipes and it was all good.

Another disaster averted.

Still not looking at her, he nodded a quick thank you and then, as if uncertain that he should, he turned and asked Hotch, "I don't meant to…but did I…did I hear right? You're FBI?"

"We are," Hotch confirmed. And then showed his badge.

"Working a big case?" Tyler asked, his curiosity overwhelming him.

"We are," Gideon said this time.

"Well, if you guys need anything, I mean to help you relax when you need to relax, so you can solve the case, you let me know okay?" Tyler told them as all at once, everyone at the table saw a loneliness in the man, a desperate desire to be needed.

"We'll do that, my man," Morgan told him.

"Good," Tyler nodded. "Well then, I'll let you guys eat."

And with that, he walked away.

"Odd guy," Emily noted.

"Lonely guy," Gideon corrected.

"And I'd guess not one that has a lot of experience with the ladies," Morgan put in. Before Emily could ask him how he knew that, he added, "Did you notice how he wouldn't look at JJ? She made him nervous. And he never spoke to either of you. Only to us guys."

"He's right," Reid nodded. "And when he spilled your soup, JJ, he didn't clean it up for you because that would have meant reaching into your personal space. He's probably been rejected--"

"Guys," JJ said dryly. "You don't have to profile everyone. He's just our waiter. Let him be just our waiter, okay?"

Morgan laughed, broke off a piece of his bread and tossed it at her. She caught it effortlessly, dipped it into her soup and then popped it into her mouth, stopping only to wink at him.

And while they were reasonably distracted, Reid turned in his seat and called out, "Hey, can I get a cup of coffee, please?"

* * *

"Hey," she said, opening the door to her room. Her hair was still slightly wet, but thankfully no longer dripping water. She was dressed in black slacks and a purple silk shirt. "Come on in."

"If you're not ready yet, I can wait," he told her, stepping back towards the door. He had a cup of coffee already nestled between his palms, the aroma of it filling her nostrils.

"No, I am," she replied, opening the door further so that Reid could enter. Then she added, "You didn't have to wait for me."

For the briefest of moments, he didn't reply and then, his voice squeaking just a bit, he said, "The others went down to eat. I wasn't hungry."

She turned and smiled at him. "Give a minute, okay?"

He nodded and dropped down to sit on her bed. He glanced around the room, taking in the neatness. His room was already cluttered, but hers was orderly.

Even the sheets and blankets and her bed had been tidied up, brought up to the top. Not quite made, but damn near close.

Only the suitcase in the corner and the folders on the desk showed that the room was being used at all.

"Spence?" JJ asked as she exited the bathroom, her hair up in an impossibly intricate bun, one that to him, seemed to defy every law of physics ever created.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, coming up beside him.

"If I tell you that I hate that question –"

"I won't be offended," she promised.

He smiled at her. Then stood up. "We should get going. I'm sure Gideon's anxious to meet up with Oscar Baron."

"And you?" JJ smirked.

"I…might be looking forward to it," he admitted.

"Uh huh," she laughed. Then she crossed over to the closet, grabbed a black jacket that was hung up inside of it and pulled it on. "Let's go."

And as they were walking out the door, he suddenly said, "Hey, JJ, you do realize that we're in San Diego in the middle of July..."

"I'm still not going to ComiCon with you, Reid. Even if it does take place this weekend." And with that, she turned and exited the room.

After a moment, he went after her, "How'd you know it was this weekend?"

She just grinned and kept walking towards the elevator.

* * *

The six members of the BAU filed into the 5th Precinct in the middle of San Diego at just after nine in the morning. They were told by one of the desk officers that Detective Palmer wasn't yet in, but that he'd should be showing up shortly.

The officer had then directed them towards the bullpen, assuring them that a room had already been set aside for their purposes.

No sooner had they entered the bullpen when they heard a voice with a slight New York accent rumble out, "Jason, you silly son of a bitch, I see that you never did learn to dress."

They turned, as a group, to face Oscar Baron. Shrunken by eighty-two years of life, Baron's step was slow and measured, but there was an unmistakable brilliance in his eyes.

"Oscar," Gideon greeted warmly. He stepped forward and embraced his mentor, not lightly as one might have expected, but more as two young men would hug. Then, separating, he turned back to face the others. "I'd like to introduce you to the rest of my team." He pointed to Hotch and started to speak, but was stopped by Baron holding up his hand.

"No, let me," Oscar said, stepping forward. He stepped towards. "Neat suit, looks like a lawyer, doesn't have nearly the laugh lines that a man your age should. You must be Hotchner."

"Yes, sir," Hotch nodded, offering his hand.

Baron hesitated a moment, then said, "I warn you in advance, Agent Hotchner, I'm a man of first impressions. So when I take your hand, I expect you to shake it like you would if I were your father, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Hotch said again. Then he took Baron's hand. And shook it hard and firm. Like his own father would have demanded of him.

Baron smiled. "Good." He turned and moved down the line, towards Prentiss. "Slightly aristocratic in look, awkward in stance, you must be Prentiss."

"Yes, sir," Emily nodded before offering her hand. He took it. Then smiled.

"Interesting. Eager to please. I like that," Baron noted. He'd moved away from her before noticing the furious flush that had come over her face. He came up to Morgan next. "Strong, handsome, man of action. Derek Morgan."

"I would be," Derek confirmed.

After their shake, Baron said, "You are just as I would have expected, Agent Morgan. Always on your sleeve, no?"

Emily elbowed him and smirked as Baron moved on, not waiting for an answer.

He came up to Reid next and his eyebrow arched clear into his hairline. "Tail wagging like a puppy, entirely too young to be here and completely unable to stand still for longer than a second. Dr. Reid, I presume?"

"Yes, yes," Reid answered quickly, practically falling over himself as he struggled to get the words out. "I'm a…it's an honor to meet you, sir."

"The honor is mine, Dr. Reid. I understand you don't shake?"

Reid smiled, a bit awkwardly.

"Not sure I trust a man who doesn't offer his hand in greeting, but Jason does. That's good enough for me." Then he tilted his head and glanced at Reid's waist, towards his gun. "He's right though, your firearm doesn't quite match you."

"I…"

Baron waved him off. "My left foot is an inch shorter than my right, son. It doesn't quite fit me either, but I use it terribly well." Then he grinned. "If we have time, remind me to tell you about the time Jason shot a cow in the ass. It's a lovely story."

Behind them, Emily laughed. She caught Gideon looking over at her and immediately stopped herself, but her eyes were still dancing. And for that matter, so were his.

Like he'd expected his mentor to give him a few slaps upside the head. Just for old time's sake.

Reid was about to speak again when he realized that Baron had moved on to JJ.

"Prettier than she has any right to be, sharp and professional. You must be JJ. Tell me, do you have the disarming smile that he claims you do?"

Quite unable to stop herself, JJ found the corners of her mouth spreading outwards.

"Apparently you do," Baron said. He reached out and took her hand and shook it firmly. "You're always in control, aren't you, Agent Jareau?"

This time she met his question with a level gaze and a smirk.

He nodded. "Point taken." Then, turning back to Gideon, he said. "Well then, now that I've met your more than capable team, how about I introduce you to the city's family nightmare."


	5. 4

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long, been trying to balance this with a professional project. The pro one takes a lot more focus(and a lot more editing). Anyway, here it is. We're still a bit slow and still setting the stage and I hope I'm not going too slow for y'all and losing you because I promise, it's gonna speed up very soon. This story isn't about the mystery of who killed JJ's parents, it's about what happens to her and within her and around her when she is finally faced with the opportunity to confront and deal with the monster who irrevocably alters her life's due course.**_

_**As is par for the course of this ep, I am using some creative license to deal with facts not in evidence- such as when certain members of the team joined the group. Certain things said by characters lead me to believe that our core group - Gideon, Hotch, Morgan, Reid and JJ have all been together for around three years with Reid and JJ as the newest members. Maybe this is true, maybe this isn't, but for this story- just go with it. If it alters on-air, I'll deal in an eventual re-edit. **_

_**As always, I thank you for any and all feedback.**_

* * *

_FEBRUARY, 2004._

_She was shaking. She could feel it. _

_The Academy seemed like forever ago, a memory of something simple and easy._

_At least comparatively speaking anyway._

_She approached the desk in the lobby slowly, hearing the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor beneath her. The slightly plump lady at the desk was in her early fifties, a cheerful woman who'd been doing this job all her life._

"_Uh, hi," Jennifer Jareau said thickly, realizing that her mouth had suddenly gone very dry. _

_David had told her to expect that. He'd said that the first day would be harder, even harder than the first day at the FBI Academy. He'd told her that her first instinct would be to turn and run, to believe that she was in the wrong place._

_He'd told her to steady her feet, keep them still. He'd told her that he knew she could do it._

_He'd told her that he knew she'd do great._

"_Hi," the woman, who JJ would come to know as Angela Bierko said, smiling broadly, her eyes twinkling. Idly JJ wondered if Angela couldn't see right through her, didn't know just on sight that she was new meat. _

_A raw kid who would probably wash out within two weeks._

"_I…I'm looking…I mean I need…I'm here to speak to SSA Aaron Hotchner."_

_Angela nodded and flipped through a notebook on her desk. "Jennifer Jareau?"_

"_Yes," JJ said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. Her fingers bumbling just a bit, she pulled out her FBI badge, the newly issued one that said: SPECIAL AGENT on it. _

_Angela lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, this badge will get you through the doors into that office. When you leave today, please make sure you drop it off again. Eventually the boys down in security will finish getting you a set of your own."_

_JJ nodded, but said nothing, knowing instinctively that Angela wasn't done. _

"_Your office is on the first floor, off to the left of when you walk in. The previous agent who had the position you're taking moved out last week so the office is nice and empty now, but that won't last for long, honey."_

_Not liking the sound of that, JJ could manage little more than an uncomfortable smile. And not for the first time since being given her first straight out of the Academy assignment, she wondered if she wasn't in way over her head._

_Already._

_But this was apparently a posh position. One that everyone wanted. One that was impossible for anyone who wasn't a Supervisory Special Agent to get into._

_But she wasn't going in as a profiler._

_She was going in as their liaison. _

_Which FBI regs were lighter for. A just Special Agent could be a liaison._

_The question then became, could someone who wasn't of the same experience and rank as the others, could someone who was essentially a fresh faced green rookie ever have a chance in hell of earning the respect of a group of grizzled lifers?_

_She'd spent a good amount of time thinking about that._

_Too much time if she were to be honest with herself._

_Still, colleagues at the Academy had told her that this was the kind of job that people killed for. It was a hell of a springboard, they'd said. Being in the BAU, well it got them noticed. It helped get them places._

_Apparently the Director of the FBI's press agent had done a stint in the FBI. Way back in the day. Even worked alongside the rather infamous Oscar Baron._

_An Academy legend if ever there was one._

"_Ms. Jareau?" Angela said. JJ blinked and smiled awkwardly, realizing that she'd been caught dazing off. "Can I give you some advice?"_

"_Sure," JJ replied, wondering if the advice was to turn around, walk out of the building and request a different position._

_One without the pressure of everybody watching._

"_Your appointment to this department wasn't a mistake, Ms. Jareau. You were carefully selected from a very large pool of candidates. That means that Agent Hotchner has every confidence that you can do it. When you walk through the doors to meet him, your face should show that same confidence."_

"_Thank you," JJ said, rather wishing that she could fall into the floor. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, knew that she had to look rather like a red-faced fool._

"_Not a prob-" Angela stopped abruptly, her eyes catching on someone walking by. "Good news, one of your new co-workers just got in." Then, frowning just a bit, she finished with, "Late, I might add. Dr. Reid!"_

_JJ turned to watch a young man who couldn't have been a day over twenty. His brown hair was mussed up, a long lock of it falling over the left lens of his horn-rimmed glasses. He was holding an oversized cup of coffee in his hand._

"_Hi, Angela," he smiled as he crossed over to the desk. His eyes flickered up towards JJ and he placed his hand over his mouth, as if to clear a cough in his throat._

"_Doctor Spencer Reid, this is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau."_

"_The rookie," Reid squeaked suddenly, waving his hand at her, as if to say hello. Quite involuntarily, JJ laughed._

_And for a moment, they just stood there like that, both looking at each other. Until Angela, with amusement in her voice said, "Dr. Reid, why don't you take Agent Jareau in to meet with Agent Hotchner. I'm sure she'd like to get settled in."_

"_Oh! Right. Of course."_

_Again, quite involuntarily, JJ found herself smiling at him. There was just something infectious about this kid. Something innocent._

_Something that made her feel like maybe she was in the right place after all._

"_Right this way," he then said, indicating towards glass doors. _

_The first time she walked through the glass doors that led into the bullpen of the BAU, she felt her stomach seize violently and she wondered if she'd have enough time to make it to the bathroom before she lost the small amount of cereal that she'd been able to ingest less than an hour earlier._

"_Hey, Reid," a voice called out, taking her attention off the churning in her belly. She looked up to see an incredibly handsome black men wearing cargo pants and an olive green shirt. He was leaning against his desk, a mug of coffee cupped casually in his massive hands. "Who you got with you?"_

_Reid turned slightly towards JJ, his voice low. "Derek Morgan. " Then, as they approached Morgan, "Special Agent Jennifer Jareau."_

"_Ah, the rookie," Morgan said. _

"_Okay, that's the second time that's been said," JJ informed them. "I should be worried, right?"_

_Reid coughed, but said nothing._

"_Nah, we're harmless," Morgan assured her with an easy smile. One that could charm a snake out of its basket. "A pleasure," he then said as he extended his hand and it occurred to JJ, as she took it, that Reid hadn't offered his palm. She filed that way for later._

_It probably meant nothing._

_But it was weird._

"_Uh, for me, too," JJ nodded. She'd read up on the Unit she was becoming part of. She knew everything about them that the FBI officially knew._

_Hotchner the former DA. Gideon the brilliant but erratic SSA who in the eyes of most had all of the skills to be a unit chief but none of the calm. Morgan, the agent who'd risen quickly through the ranks, receiving commendation after commendation, often for endangering himself to help someone else. Megan Daly, the senior profiler who was six months from retirement and Reid, the twenty year old genius that no one could quite figure out._

_The genius that every department in the FBI had tried to claim for their own._

_They were her team now._

_If she could manage to stop her stomach from churning._

_If she could keep her feet from turning and running._

"_Agent Jareau?"_

_She turned and looked up towards the second floor. A tall in a perfect suit was standing there. His look was hard and serious. Too serious._

"_Agent Hotchner," she swallowed. "Sorry, I'm late."_

_He glanced down at his watch and she thought she saw the tip of his lip curve into just the slightest of smiles as he replied, "You're not. Yet. Come on."_

_She offered Reid and Morgan a smile and then made her way up the stairs, her heels once again clicking rhythmically. When she reached the top, Hotch was standing there waiting. He immediately extended a hand._

"_You can call me Hotch," he told her._

_She took his hand and for a moment, almost replied with her nickname, but then she stopped. This was a job. These weren't her friends. This was professional._

"_Thank you for this, sir," JJ told him._

_He smiled, again slightly, this one more controlled. "Why don't we talk in my office?"_

_She nodded, biting down on the youthful urge to run. Wondering when someone was going to say, "Uh oh, you're in trouble."_

_Once inside the office, she settled into the chair opposite his desk and glanced around. She took in the pictures of his wife, a pretty woman. No photos of kids or animals. But that he was married was a good thing._

_One of her teachers back at the Academy had indicated that their line of work tended to be hell on a marriage._

_But then, she reminded herself, she hadn't joined the FBI for the paycheck and stability. She'd joined it for her own reasons._

"_You're probably wondering why I brought you in without even interviewing you first," Hotch started, meeting her eyes,_

"_I had wondered," she admitted. "I mean, you guys are profilers, I figured you'd want to meet me to…well…"_

"_Know you?"_

_She shrugged, looked a bit sheepish._

_Profiling is harder than that. If we could just look at someone and know who they were, then our job would be easy. But people are all different and some are very good at hiding just how evil they are. I like to think that I'm better than most at being able to read men, but still…"_

"_So, why did you then?"_

"_Because you were the top of your class."_

_He could tell that she wasn't quite understanding. Time to try something new then._

_Time to do what Morgan liked to do, use breadcrumbs to lead someone down the path. _

"_Why did you put in for the open position in the BAU?" he asked her, reaching into his desk and pulling out three folders._

"_Honestly?_

_He nodded._

"_Because everyone was. Because they said that the BAU was where you wanted to be if you wanted to make a difference."_

"_And you want to make a difference?"_

"_Don't we all. Isn't that why we all joined the FBI?"_

_He chuckled, just a bit. "We all have our reasons. Yours, I'm a little foggy on."_

"_Sir?" she asked, starting to feel very uncomfortable. She wondered if she'd done something wrong, wondered if she'd been sent for some kind of interrogation._

"_Before the Academy, you were an average student at Pittsburgh U, would you agree?"_

_She nodded slowly. "I had a 3.0, but no, studies weren't exactly a major focus for me."_

"_They didn't really need to be. You were a hell of an athlete." He reached down and opened a file. In it were several clippings from the school's paper. A few of them showed her in full color, either blocking a shot or taking one. "You set school records for saves, were honored several times."_

"_Sir, with all due respect, I know all this."_

"_My point, Agent Jareau, is that you were an athlete, not an – and I mean no offense by saying this - academic. And you majored in Television Journalism. So tell me, how does that then become a burning desire to not only enter the FBI, but to be the best of it."_

"_You said it yourself," JJ replied, meeting her eyes, her blues flashing stubbornly. "I'm an athlete. I try to be the best at whatever I do."_

"_Okay, I can buy that. To a degree. But…I think there's more." He opened up a different folder and pulled out a print-out of a newspaper article. The headline on it read: COUPLE MURDERED IN THEIR OWN HOME. _

_And underneath the headline were two pictures. One of a pretty blonde woman. One of a man with brown hair. Matthew and Kate Jareau._

_Involuntarily, JJ flinched._

"_This is why you joined," he said. It was a statement of fact._

"_I joined to stop…" but then she couldn't get the words out. A few seconds passed before she continued, "If you didn't think I could do this…"_

"_On the contrary, Agent Jareau, I'm quite confident that you can do this job. But in order for you to, you need to be honest with yourself. We all have our reasons for being here. Some of them, you'll never know. Some of us, we don't have a paper trail like you do. But we all have our reasons. And if we let those reasons define us then we become a slave to them."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_I think you do."_

_She met his eyes again and he knew he was getting through. So softly:_

"_You joined the FBI so that you could one day have the chance to find the man who murdered your parents. Well that day may come, but it's not today. Today we go out and hunt someone else's nightmare. You can't personalize it or the job will destroy you within weeks. You have to find a way to separate yourself from it. Do you think you can handle that?"_

"_That sounds like a dare," she said with a small smile. _

_He laughed and this time it was real and full. "I suppose it is."_

"_I never turn down a dare."_

"_Good to know. We meet in the conference room just down the hall every morning at nine-thirty. That gives you about ten minutes to get up to speed with the current case we're working on."_

"_Okay," she said, standing up. Then, "Sir, about this…"_

"_Everything we just talked about stays between you and I," Hotch promised. "Only my superiors know the details. And I assure you, it will stay that way unless you decide otherwise."_

"_Thank you," she sighed with relief as she moved towards the door._

"_And Agent Jareau?" she turned back. "I chose you without interviewing you because I knew if I had interviewed you, you would have come prepared. And something tells me that you're very good at stonewalling when you want to."_

"_So my aunt likes to say," she replied. After a beat, she added, softly, hesitantly, "And sir, it's JJ. I…I've always gone by JJ."_

"_JJ it is," he nodded. "Welcome to the BAU, JJ."_

* * *

JULY, 2007.

The BAU team had a rule. Coffee before work. It was a very simple matter of greasing the wheels. Lack of caffeine for this group of profilers was a lot like trying to cut meat with a dull knife.

Pretty damned useless.

Thankfully, the men and women who worked the precinct in San Diego were every bit as much of caffeine fanatics.

And they had a kitchen to die for.

So once everyone was carrying a full cup, Baron had announced with grand style that the meeting could finally commence.

Which had brought them all to the outside of the conference room on the second floor of the precinct. Once a chilly interrogation room, a window had been put in to bring in light and air and not it was a drafty interview room.

Still terribly uncomfortable just not quite as foreboding as before.

That said, Jennifer Jareau thought to herself, this place was practically a beach resort compared to some of the precincts she'd been forced to spend time in.

"Hey, you okay?" Hotch asked, reaching out and touching her shoulder lightly. He held her back, waiting for the others to enter the room ahead of them. Reid glanced over his shoulder at them and Hotch could have sworn that he saw JJ nod at him. As if to say, "it's okay."

And then Reid turned and walked with Morgan into the room. JJ watched and then turned back towards Hotch. "I'm fine," she assured him.

"This case…"

"It's familiar," JJ agreed. "I've noticed. But Hotch, we've worked on…we've seen this before, whole families being murdered."

"True, but you must have noticed the patterns."

"I was five, David was seven," JJ sighed. "Yes. But really, I'm fine."

"I know you are," Hotch nodded. "And if you're not…"

"I will be," she assured him, unwilling to even offer up the chance of showing weakness. Hotch almost smiled. After three years, her stubborn streak was just as strong as ever. Just as unrelenting. "These cases may be similar, but they're not the same. Remember, I'm alive. So's David. Don't worry, I can separate."

"Okay." He didn't sound convinced but was willing to let it go for now. He'd made an effort a long time ago to not look for problems.

With her when it came to families being murdered. With Morgan when it came child rapists. With Reid when it came to any kind of drug abuse.

He had always told them to separate.

Sometime he found that hard to do himself.

Hard, but not impossible.

JJ nodded and started towards the room.

"Don't imagine if I asked you about what's going on with you and Reid that you'd actually tell me, hm?" he tried, voice light.

"There's nothing going on with Dr. Reid and I," she replied effortlessly, eyes twinkling. "But we are keeping the others waiting."

Shaking his head, he opened the door and watched her walk through it. As he followed, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that no matter what JJ had said to the opposite, this case was all too familiar.

It took only five minutes in room with Oscar Baron for the others to realize what Jason Gideon had known since the first day he'd met his eccentric mentor.

Baron was excitable, enigmatic and quite prone to fits of yelling.

And no one in the room could take their eyes off of him.

Especially Reid, whose look could best be described as puppy love.

"The Haven's daughter Kimberly, she was a soccer player. A forward. But she wanted to be a goalie."

"How do you know that?" Morgan challenged.

Baron held up the manifest, the one showing all the items that had been found in Kim Haven's the room the morning after the little five year old had been murdered. "The Crime Scene unit found goalkeeper's gloves in her sock drawer."

"Sock drawer?" Emily questioned. "That's kind of weird."

"Not really," JJ replied. "Her mother probably wasn't thrilled with the idea of having a ball kicked right at her daughter's face. Her father probably thought it was the coolest idea in the world to have her be the goalie. Dad gave her the gloves and she hid them."

"My mom always went through my sock drawer," Reid said. Behind him, Morgan couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I mean, " Reid continued. "I never would have hid anything there because she would have seen it when she did my laundry."

"My mom probably saw mine, too," JJ admitted. "But she never took them." And then without adding anything more, she lapsed back into silence, starring down at her fingernails.

Reid saw this and not for this first time, wondered about it.

She'd told them all that her parents were dead, but had always declined to speak further on it. Casually asking around had gotten neither he nor Morgan anywhere.

And neither was about to invade her privacy by digging any deeper.

No, hell would freeze before they'd do that to her if they could manage not to.

The team had had no choice but to look into Morgan's background to save him.

JJ had had no choice but to push her way into his problems to save him.

Those had been exceptions.

And no matter what we between them, he wouldn't step over that line unless he had to.

She meant too much to him.

Her trust. Their friendship.

"Okay," Gideon finally said, seizing the floor back. Baron threw him a look, which Gideon just waved off. "What commonalities draw all the victims together. Let's start with the parents."

"All of the mothers were housewives," Prentiss said.

"All blonde with blue eyes," Morgan nodded.

"Good, anything else? Height, weight?" Gideon pressed.

"No," Morgan shook his head. "But all of the women were petite. The tallest was just a notch over 5'4".

"Nothing in the files indicates whether the women shared any hobbies," Hotch murmured.

"Okay, let's move on to the husbands," Gideon instructed.

"Brown hair, brown eyes," Prentiss said.

"All of the men had different jobs though. One was a doctor, one a lawyer, one a mechanic and the other worked for the city," Morgan sighed.

"They all worked," Baron said. "That's the point. Not what they did, but that they were out of the house. All four fathers worked long days, leaving the stay at home mother to run the household and raise the children."

"The son," Gideon said, moving along.

"Hair and eye color doesn't seem to manage, only age. The boy is always seven," Reid noted, tapping his fingers against four smiling photos.

"The girl, however, is always blonde," JJ said suddenly. "Always five and always blonde and blue eyed, just like her mother."

And then, involuntarily, she shivered. Just a bit. Not so much that she couldn't hide it behind being physically cold, but enough that she knew that Hotch had seen it.

"Well, that helps," Hotch finally said. "It narrows down our focus. San Diego may be big, but that's terribly exact."

"Garcia's already working on-" Morgan started.

At that moment, the door to the room opened and a slim man in his thirties entered. "Hi, Detective Jesse Palmer. I'm the one in charge of this case." He offered his hand. JJ was the first to take it, first rising and striding towards him.

"Jennifer Jareau," she said, before introducing the other agents.

"Sorry to be so late," Palmer told them. "Traffic this time of morning can be a pain in the ass."

Gideon smiled. "No matter where you go, there you are."

"Buckaroo Banzai?" Morgan asked, eyebrow asked.

"A cult classic and arguably one of the greatest sci-fi films ever made," Reid informed the group. He was about to say more, but caught the look from Hotch. The amused one that begged him to stop while he was ahead.

And so he did, earning him a small smile from JJ.

A smile that Hotch didn't miss.

"My point," Gideon clarified, "Was that it's the same where we're from, Detective Palmer."

"Never been to DC, but I don't doubt that," Palmer nodded before dropping himself down into the chair opposite Prentiss. Then, "I don't want to step on any toes here, but can I make a suggestion?"

"Detective, this is your case," Hotch told him. "We're the ones here to help. Any and all suggestions you make are appreciated."

Palmer visibly relaxed then, tension flowing away from him. "A press conference then. People are starting to notice. People are getting scared. We've been getting calls from moms wondering if its okay for them to take their kids out to the park."

"JJ?" Gideon asked, turning towards her.

"We could supply just the base information, right now just let the public know that the FBI is here," she suggested.

"Might cause him to de-evolve and hasten his timetable," Emily cautioned.

"I don't think so," Gideon shook his head.

Before Emily could ask "why not", Morgan answered for him, "This man's entire reason for killing is linked to his ritual. These people he murders, they have to be exact and that kind of precision, it takes time. He has to watch them, get to know them. Nothing we do short of stopping him will alter that."

"So the purpose of press conference would be to warn potential victims, not to put pressure on the Unsub," Emily stated.

"Right. JJ, can you make it happen?" Hotch asked.

She grinned. "What do you think?"

* * *

By the time the team arrived back at the hotel just before ten that night, they were all just about dragging. Heads held high, their drooping shoulders told the tale.

Exhaustion and frustration.

Mostly frustration.

JJ had done as asked, presenting a capable front for which the team to work behind. They had assured the viewing public that this son of a bitch who was committing the heinous crimes would be stopped. They had promised that the good guys were going to win this one.

By the end of the day, no one was near as confident of that.

After the press conference, everyone had split up into smaller teams. Hotch and Reid had gone to interview others members of one of the playgroups that Marilyn Dexter had been part of. Gideon and Baron had gone to speak with school officials and Morgan and Prentiss had been tasked with interviewing the kids coaches.

None of the interviews had provided anything helpful.

Loving parents, well behaved normal kids, God, how could this have happened?

It was the same from everyone.

JJ had stayed behind, talking to Garcia for almost three hours via phone as they went one by one through a very large stack of potential families.

Apparently in San Diego, a family of four with a young son and a young daughter wasn't as rare as one might thing.

Still, the ages and the hair color helped and by the end of the afternoon, the victim pool had been finally shopped down to just a notch below one hundred.

Still too damn big.

"Hey," Emily called out, as they walked towards their rooms. When JJ turned to face her, she continued. "You up for a drink?"

JJ thought about it for a second and then shrugged. "Yeah, actually that sounds nice."

"Okay. I'll call Morgan's room and ask him, have him ask Reid. Unless you'd like to ass Reid yourself."

JJ chuckled. "No, Morgan can do it."

"Hey," Prentiss said thoughtfully. "We should ask Hotch and Gideon if they want to join us as well."

JJ shook her head. "No need. Hotch doesn't drink after ten and didn't Gideon say he didn't want to be disturbed tonight unless it was an emergency."

Prentiss nodded." He did. Okay, ten minutes then?"

"Long enough to get out of these pantyhose," JJ replied.

"And once again I remember why I don't envy your job," Prentiss told her.

And once again, JJ laughed.

Using her keycard, she pushed the door to the room open and entered. Once it clicked shut behind her, she sighed.

Just a moment of quiet.

Just a moment of tranquility.

Finally, opening her eyes, she started into the room, kicking off her heels. She dropped down onto the bed and started to peel off the pantyhose.

And that was when she saw the envelope lying on her pillow.

Small and yellow, sealed only with the brass tabs. Her name was written in big block letters on the front, presumably with a black sharpie.

JENNIFER JAREAU.

Her.

Hands shaking, she controlled both her curiosity and her fear just long enough to peel off the rest of her pantyhose. She tossed them backwards onto the bed and then grabbed the envelope and ripped it open.

She emptied the envelope onto the bed.

Saw its contents.

A picture. Just a picture.

A picture that made her stomach seize violently.


	6. 5

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well crikey it's been awhile. And I had never intended it to be, but dang, life has caught up in a big way. Still, I'm back and the wheels are spinning again so hopefully updates will be more regular. I hope y'all still dig this and thank you so much for sticking with me. For those interested in THE BIG EMPTY, that will be updated by the end of the week.**_

_**And to J - Tag, you're it. **_

* * *

_   
Feb, 2007._

_It was late, close to the dinner hour and the tiny airport was mostly empty, just a few stray stragglers moving around. As her flight let out, only a handful of fellow passengers moving beside her, she took a deep breath._

_She'd chosen to fly into this half-assed airport just to avoid people._

_People who had no idea who she was._

_No idea of the nightmares she'd seen._

_And supposedly survived._

_Normally she wouldn't have cared, but for tonight, for this one night, all of those blissfully ignorant people, well they were just too much for her._

"_Jen," he called out, his brown eyes lighting up as he strode towards her. She met him in the middle of terminal and her arms encircled his much larger chest. He kissed her cheek, held her tight. "It's been too damn long."_

"_It's only been six weeks," Jennifer Jareau replied, trying to keep her voice light and airy. She even through in a dry chuckle, just for effect._

_But he knew she was just pretending. Of course he knew._

_It was his job. He was a prosecutor. And a damn good one at that. _

_But it was more than that. He'd always been able to see right through her._

_He pulled back and away from her and studied her, his jaw setting. Finally he said, "You don't look okay."_

"_But I am," she replied, touching his arm, offering up his best smile._

"_No, you're not," he said, shaking his head._

"_David…"_

"_You're not okay. I knew that when you called and said you were coming."_

"_What? Are you saying I can't just come to visit my big brother?"_

_David laughed loudly. "No, I'm saying you can't just do it on the fly. It's not you. You're a lot of things, Jen, but on the fly ain't one of them."_

_She smirked. "I can fly."_

"_Uh huh, if you're on a soccer field."_

"_Maybe I just wanted to see the old field, remind myself of what it feels like to…fly." There was something sad and wistful in her tone, something that sounded a little bit like a desperate plea._

"_Jen, what's going on?" David asked, frowning. He'd never been good at hiding his emotions, at least not around the women in his life. He was hell on wheels in the courtroom, unflappable and always in control._

_Control ran in the Jareau family._

_But when it came to his wife or his baby sister, well sometimes staying calm and cool was easier said than done._

"_Nothing. I just…I wanted to get away for a few days. That's all."_

"_Away from what? The bad guys? The BAU? The job?" Then, with a smirk. "Or the mountains of paperwork?"_

_She smiled slightly. "All of it?"_

"_Jen…"_

"_I'll tell you everything, I promise, but can we…can we just get out here…I just…I want quiet."_

"_Okay," he said. "But I'm not sure how much quiet I can offer. Noah never stops moving these days and Nat's going to freak when she sees you."_

"_That kind of noise," JJ said with a much larger smile, "I can deal with."_

* * *

_David had been right about Nat, who had just about body-slammed her aunt when she'd seen her. But now, regretfully, all was quiet again. The little girl was in the kitchen with her mother, cooking dinner._

_She walked around her brother's house slowly, her eyes taking in all of the pictures on the walls. His wife – Kelly – was insistent upon having both sides of their family heritage always on display. She'd wanted the kids to always know where they had come from._

_Her nails scratching the glass just a bit, JJ traced her fingers over a color photo of her parents on their wedding day. They'd been married in the seventies so the clothes were gaudy and overly, but still, the picture brought a smile to her face._

_And not for the first time, JJ wondered who she would have ended up being had her parents not been butchered._

_She wondered if she'd have grown up to be the on-air anchor that she'd always thought she was going to be._

_She wondered if she'd had ended up a professional soccer player._

_But those days were gone, erased by the knowledge of what a madman had done, decimated by the truth._

_The truth was kind of like that._

_It took no prisoners._

_It accepted no excuses._

_It always cut right through to your soul._

_The truth of what might have been, the truth of what actions should have been taken, the truth of ones mistakes…_

"_Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," David said softly as she approached from just behind her. Just the same, she jumped a little._

_And he noticed._

_But said nothing. Just waited._

_Finally, just as quietly, she queried, "Does your neighbor still own that Irish Sutter?"_

"_Gilly?" David asked, with a slight frown. She nodded, lips pursed, her eyes focused on a spot just above the picture on the wall, like she was intentionally trying not to let him connect with her. "No, she died two weeks ago. Cancer, I hear. They buried her in their backyard."_

"_Oh," JJ replied, a small pang of guilt. Gilly had been a good dog, a sweet dog. JJ had been dreading seeing her._

_And it was stupid and foolish. And weak._

_And God if she didn't hate that._

"_Jen…"_

"_I uh…I haven't seen Noah," she said quickly, turning away from him. "I figured he'd come to meet me. Nat did."_

"_He's out back playing in the sandbox."_

"_Sounds nice," she murmured._

_David lifted an eyebrow. "You want to play in the sandbox, Jen? Because I kind of remember you throwing a few tantrums in there."_

_And she couldn't help but laugh then. "Well you always took my toys and you know, they were my toys," she replied._

_He snorted. "You thought all the toys were yours."_

_She shrugged but didn't reply, the mirth fading from her eyes again. And this time, well this time it was too much for David._

_He stepped towards her and clutched her shoulders, turning her to face him. "Jen, what's going on? Did someone hurt you? If they did, you know you can tell me. You know that, right?"_

"_I'm…not…"_

_Much more firmly this time he asked, "Jennifer, are you hurt?"_

_Absently, even as she shook her head no, her hand went up and began to scratch at her forearm. He saw and reached down, pulling up the sleeve of her shirt, seeing the bandage there._

"_What is this?"_

"_A dog bite," she said simply._

"_A dog bite?" And she nodded but offered nothing further. _

_Before he could push further, knowing that he had to, seeing something in his sisters eyes that he'd only seen once before, there was a scream. Delirious and youthful, loud and energetic._

"_JJ!"_

_Screaming hysterically, Noah soared towards her, all limbs. She caught him in her arms and lifted him up, hugging him fiercely._

"_Hey, baby boy," she gushed, her eyes sparkling. David smiled, thankful for the momentary reprieve, but more worried than he cared to admit._

* * *

"_Good beer?" he asked as he dropped down next to her. She was sitting on the back porch, sipping from a long neck bottle of pale ale._

"_Very good," she replied with a small smile. "You drink good beer."_

"_No, my wife drinks good beer. I drink Coors."_

"_Rocky Mountain piss water," she smirked, before leaning against him._

"_You got it." Then, "So, how'd you get that dogbite?"_

_There was a beat and then, "I've told you about Spence, right?"_

"_The genius?"_

"_Yeah." Another beat as she took a deep swig from the bottle.. "There was a case. We were on a case, my team, I mean. On the night of the Superbowl."_

"_So last weekend," David murmured._

_She nodded. "Our Unsub was a religious killer. Called himself the angel of death - Raphael. The guy ended up having multiple personalities."_

"_Real multiple personalities?" David asked with a hint of surprise. He'd been involved in a few trials where defendants had tried to use MPD as a defense but it had always been an obvious hoax._

"_Yeah. Three of them. His dad, himself and Raphael."_

"_Creepy."_

"_Yeah," JJ nodded. She took another sip._

_And for a moment, she said nothing else. So gently, David prodded. "What happened?"_

"_Spence and I, we got sent to his house. We didn't know he was the killer. We thought he was just a witness. But Spence figured it out. And then we split up…"_

_David couldn't help but frown. "Oh, Jen…"_

_She gave him a rather sickly look, one full of guilt and anguish. "Yeah. And then they attacked me. I killed them."_

"_Them?" he asked thickly, afraid of the answer._

_She scratched her arm. "The dogs. He'd been using them to kill his victims. Jezebel, you know?" She looked up at him, a bit of a wild desperation in her eyes. "They attacked me. I thought I was going to die."_

"_But you didn't," he said, not bothering to hide his relief that it was just dogs that had attacked her. The alternative, well it was too ghastly too imagine._

"_But he could have."_

_David blinked, trying to keep up with her. "He…oh, you mean Spence?"_

_She nodded. "We separated. I went into the barn, where the dogs were…""_

"_And Spence? Where did he go?" David asked gently, feeling a bit like he was leading a witness along. _

"_Into the cornfield. That's where Tobias…or Raphael or whoever got him."_

"_Got him?" David asked with alarm. It had always been clear to him that his sister had a great deal of fondness for the youngest member of the BAU and if something had happened to him, something that it sounded like she wanted to blame herself for, well that certainly explained a lot._

_She nodded and he thought he saw dampness in her big blue eyes. He resisted the urge to reach over and hug her, knowing that it was important for her to tell her whole tale. "He got kidnapped and tortured. God, David…" She inhaled sharply. "They made him decide who had to live and who had to die. And Tobias fired at him…and he stopped breathing…"_

"_Jen," David said, his voice tight. "Is he dead?"_

_She swallowed and shook her head. "No, he's at home now."_

"_So he's okay?"_

_She nodded. David exhaled. _

_Then, "David, I nearly got him killed and all of them, they know that. They know that I let him down…"_

"_I'm not sure I understand. You split up, right?"_

_She nodded._

"_So how is it your fault?"_

"_Because if we had stayed together, then it wouldn't have happened."_

"_You don't know that. Maybe if you had stayed together, maybe both of you would have been hurt. You just don't know what would have happened."_

"_But…"_

"_No, look. Look at me, Jen." He slipped his finger beneath her jaw and lifted her face up so that their eyes connected. Blue on brown. And then he smiled, just a little bit impishly. "You're in a dangerous job. I told you that when you decided to go into the FBI. I told you it again when you went and got yourself assigned to the BAU. You know it. You know, what you do, I couldn't do it."_

"_But you do…"_

"_No, I get to put away the guys that people like you and your team hunt down. I get into their minds after they're no longer a threat. It's easier that way. I'm freaked out by what they've done, but I'm not afraid of them. I'm not…I'm not in danger. You, Jen, what you do is crazy."_

"_You told me not to do it."_

"_And I was wrong. It's you, my girl. It's always been you."_

_She sniffled. "I don't know what I would have done if he…if he hadn't…"_

"_But he didn't. He's alive. So forgive yourself because I'm guessing that after what he's been through, he's gonna need that smile of yours. After all, it is the best smile ever."_

_She laughed. "You're a little bit biased, don't you think?"_

"_Yeah," he admitted. And then he kissed her on the top of her hair._

* * *

Her hands trembled as she held the picture. Her mind spun circles, shooting her violently back in time.

"_Sit still, Jennifer," her mother called out, reaching out to try to place a hand on her daughter's lace clad shoulder. _

"_Squirm," her father whispered into her ear. And then he winked and she giggled, immediately alerting her mother to their plan._

_But before Kate Jareau could react, before she could do anything to stop her wayward husband and daughter, her young son leapt across her, dropping into her arms. And then there was a brilliant flash of light._

"_Perfect," the photographer said with a wide smile. "Just perfect."_

After a few seconds, she realized that she was crushing the delicate aged paper, turning it damn near into mulch. She gulped and then, without bothering to stop to pull on her shoes, she exited the room.

She made her way down the hallway, to a door three away from her own. Fist balled tightly, she knocked.

The door opened to reveal Hotch, his hair wet, wearing sweatpants and a tee-shirt. He started to ask her a question, but then, seeing the expression on her face, stopped and instead opened the door to allow her entry.

As he closed it, he saw Reid step into the hallway. Saw the worried look on the young profiler's face.

And then he shut the door and turned to face the trembling barefoot blonde who was standing in the middle of his hotel room, a crumpled picture clutched tight in her hands. "JJ," he started softly. "What's going on?"

Slowly, she held the picture out to him. Before he could take it from her, she whispered, "I need to know where this came from."

He took the photo from her and only his many years of practice kept his face from blanching as he stared down at the picture of a very young Jennifer Jareau, flanked by her mother, father and brother.

They were all smiling, Kate's expression showing astonishment as her son lay in her arms, grinning at the camera, his front two teeth missing.

"Did you have this in your house?" Hotch finally managed.

She shook her head. "No, he took it. Hotch, he took it. The police report, it said that an empty frame was found. I had forgotten, but I remember now, my dad had that in his office. On his desk."

"Oh," Hotch said, looking back down at the photo, staring into familiar blue eyes. Knowing those eyes too well.

"Hotch," JJ said, stepping towards him. "There's only one person who could have had this picture." A breath and then raggedly, "Him."

Hotch pursed his lips for a moment. Finally, "JJ, can I bring in Gideon?"

She initially seemed startled by the question, but then nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Just stay here."

He didn't wait for her to reply, seeming to know that she was to numb to really do so. He glanced at her once more and then turned and exited.

When he stepped into the hallway, he saw Reid and Morgan there, both of them sharing identical looks of concern.

"Is she okay?" Reid asked quickly, approaching him.

"Not yet," Hotch instructed, using his best parent voice.

It was lost on Reid. "Hotch, is she okay?"

He turned to Reid. "It's not for me to say."

Reid's mouth fell open. Seeing this, Morgan stepped forward. "Hotch…"

"Wait," Hotch sighed, then turned and knocked on Gideon's door. Gideon answered it almost immediately. "I need to see you in my room."

Gideon lifted an eyebrow but said nothing as he closed the door behind him and followed Hotch back across the hallway, into Hotch's room. They were closely followed by Reid and Morgan. Prentiss, who had just come from her own room, trailed closely behind.

JJ reacted with surprise when she saw the group. "Hotch?" she stammered. And he saw that she was once again clutching the photograph tight.

"JJ," he said. "They should…they should know."

She shook her head, her blue eyes wide, almost like she was in shock.

"I know, I understand," Hotch said softly, moving to sit next to her. He could see that Reid was itching to go to her side and it took all of his mental concentration not to let his mind wander. Not to wonder once again what was going on with these two.

After all, Reid looked like it was physically hurting him not to go to her.

"But if this man is somehow involved with what we're dealing with-"

Her head shot up then and he saw horror in her eyes, like she'd just realized what he'd been thinking ever since she'd put the picture in his hands. "One seven year old boy, one five year old girl."

"We don't know," he insisted.

"Know what?" Gideon asked, stepping between them.

"JJ?" Hotch asked, putting out his hand. Fingers trembling, she handed over the picture. Hotch took it and then showed it to the others. He pointed. "Kate. Matthew. David. Jennifer." He paused and then added, "Jareau."

The others cocked their heads, not understanding. Hotch saw that Reid was still watching JJ. Still studying her, frowning as she fidgeted, as she shook.

"Kate and Matthew were murdered twenty-three years ago. This photograph, which was sitting on Matthew's desk in his office, disappeared on that night."

And then suddenly, it hit them all.

"Oh my God," Prentiss gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

Once again, Hotch insisted, "We don't know that this has anything to do with the man we're chasing."

"But the cases are similar?" Gideon pressed.

Hotch nodded. "Physically, the victims are identical. The profiles are near to exact. And this picture…it was left in JJ's room..."

"Suggesting a connection," Gideon finished.

"We should have the photo dusted for prints," Morgan said.

Hotch nodded. "Good. Call over to the station. Tell Detective Palmer that we believe that the killer might have made contact."

Morgan nodded and started for the door. He held back for a moment and looked over at JJ. He tried to find her eyes, but she'd lifted them away from him, away from everyone.

She had moved back into strong mode, her posture straightening.

He turned and left the room, pulling his cell from his pocket as he went.

"Prentiss, head down to the front desk, ask them who would have been cleaning the rooms up here, try to find out if anyone saw anyone around JJ's room."

She nodded and exited.

"Reid…"

"I'm staying," he said softly.

"Actually I was hoping you'd take JJ back into her room, let her get into something a little more comfortable. I think it's going to be a long night."

"Sure," Reid said, showing visible relief.

"I can do it myself," she said softly.

"I know you can," Hotch replied before nodding to Reid to accompany her anyway.

Reid didn't quite touch her, just stood beside her as she moved shakily to her feet. They exited the room together, the door shutting softly behind them,

Gideon turned to Hotch. "You knew?"

"About her family?"

He nodded.

"Yes. It was her story to tell."

Again, Gideon nodded, seeming to understand that all too well.

"Do you think she can deal with this?"

"We don't know what this is yet."

Gideon smiled just a bit, a sad thing really. "Yes, we do."

Hotch rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It just seems…well it seems a little bit amazing, don't you think? Why our BAU unit? Why not Cooper's? Why did we have to get this case?"

"Fate's funny," Gideon shrugged. "And everything comes full circle."

"We need to take her off the case, send her home."

"You'll insult her if you do."

Hotch looked up at his old friend. "Jason, what if he wants to finish what he started? He's killing these children, horribly. Especially the girl. JJ might be in terrible danger. And after what happened to Reid…"

"We're always in terrible danger. Every case we have," Gideon replied. "And you and I both know that you couldn't pull her off this case if you tried."

Hotch didn't like the answer.

But he didn't deny it either.

* * *

He waited until they were back in her room, waited until they were alone. And then he turned to speak to her but before he could, she lunged towards him and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He gasped and fell backwards, his knees buckling as he nearly collapsed beneath her force. Beneath her frantic desperation. But then, just a little bit reluctantly, he pushed her away. "JJ," he stammered out. "Wait…"

She turned away from him and said rather breathlessly, "Sorry. I shouldn't have –"

"No," he replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. "It's okay. I…tell me what's going on. Tell me how to help." Then, taking her hand. "Please, let me help."

"My father," she said as she started to pace back and forth. "He was a good man. My mom was a housewife. He killed them. Butchered them. Reid, my mom, he ra…"

And suddenly she couldn't finish the word.

Reid stepped forward and touched her face, "JJ, it's okay, we're here, no one is going to hurt you."

"I'm not worried about me," she said, looking up at him. "He won't hurt me. But those kids…"

"We'll protect them. We'll get him." He knew he shouldn't make that kind of promise but the fear and panic he saw in his eyes, he couldn't quite stop himself.

She'd been there for him. She'd pulled him through the worst time of his life. She'd held him when he had wanted to die. Protected him against all the demons, both internally and externally.

And if lying meant that he could even begin to repay a little of that, well then he was just fine with that.

A few moments of silence passed as they both considered his words. Then, softly, "I'm sorry I kissed you…I just…I don't know what came over me."

He smiled a bit wistfully and again said, "It's okay."

He found himself suddenly glad that she wasn't looking at him. Wasn't quite sure he could have convinced her with his eyes as well as he thought he could with his voice.

He wasn't all that sure that he was being terribly successful with his voice either.

Because that line between friends and more, well for awhile, he'd rather wished that it would go away.

But now, he realized, was probably not the time to go there.

"Spence," she said. "My parents, what happened to them, they're why I joined the FBI. I wanted…I needed to catch people like him. I didn't…I told myself that maybe one day I'd get him, but I didn't really ever think I would. I thought it was just something I was telling myself."

"Maybe you should take yourself off the case."

"It might be my last case," she said quietly.

He blinked. "What?"

"I got…I got offered a promotion. The Director of the FBI…" she laughed, sounding almost hysterical, sounding like she thought her own words were absurd. "He wants me to be his press secretary."

"So…you'd leave the BAU." Her voice was suddenly very dull and empty.

She nodded.

"Oh."

And once again, there was silence. This time more deafening.

For a moment they stood like that, both just gazing at each other. A knock on the door broke their emotional staring match and Reid, feeling just a bit grateful for the reprieve, turned to open it. Prentiss was standing there.

"Were they able to tell you if anyone was up here?" Reid asked Prentiss.

She shook her head. "No, no one saw anything, but they're checking their records and they're going to ask around for us."

"Hey, " Morgan said, entering the room. "Detective Palmer wants to see us down at the station right away."

"Why?" JJ asked, moving towards him.

"There's been another killing."

"But it's too soon," she insisted.

"There's something else," Hotch added, stepping behind Morgan. Gideon was next to him, a grim expression on his face.

"Hotch," Reid said, moving back to stand next to JJ, instinctively knowing that what his boss was about to say was going to hurt like hell.

"The little girl, she wasn't there."

"Wasn't there," JJ repeated.

"He took her," Hotch elaborated. "He left a note behind her, saying…saying that he took…took Jennifer." A pause and then, "Her name was Anna."

JJ staggered against Reid, who slid his arms around her and held her tight. As he did so, his eyes met Hotch's and suddenly it didn't matter what was going on between his two youngest agents.

It only mattered that they could both stay strong.

And judging by the expressions on their faces, he wasn't sure that they could.

TBC...


	7. 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry that it's taken so long, but once again I plead life. I will say that at this time, I'm not sure if THE BIG EMPTY will be completed. Mostly because this story seems to be covering the ground that I was dealing with in that one and I don't wish to be repetitive. I apologize for that. **

**That said, I hope you continue to enjoy this one. I love JJ's story and am having a blast with it.**

** As always, thanks for the kind words. **

** Your turn, J.**

**-Shawn **

* * *

_  
_

_March, 2007_

_Jennifer Jareau couldn't sleep. Something was bothering her. Something was wrong._

_Very wrong._

_But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what._

_Mentally she ticked through the list._

_No active cases that demanded immediate attention. Her family was okay. Her love life was non existent._

_So what…what?_

_A toss to the left, a toss to the right. Face in the pillow, face up towards the ceiling. _

_Still nothing._

_Counting sheep, counting backwards, deep breaths in and out._

_Just about Lamaze. _

_And still she was awake._

_She pushed herself to her feet and paced around the room. Tried to exhaust herself._

_Jumping jacks, sit-ups, push-ups._

_Hell, even a few suicides._

_A little bit of pain in her thighs and quads, but no sleep._

_Dressed in a pair of black and blue plaid flannel pants and white wifebeater, She made her way downstairs and poured herself a mug of milk. Half a minute in the microwave and then a quick sip.  
Two violent gags later, she dumped the rest of the foul liquid down the drain._

_She was about to make her way back upstairs when she heard her cell ringing. After a few moments of wondering where the sound was coming from, her eyes managed to finally spot her purse._

_On the kitchen table. Haphazardly discarded on the way in._

_She made her way to it and plucked the phone up. A quick look at the Caller ID showed it be Reid's cell. She frowned. It was almost midnight. A call from Reid likely meant something bad had happened._

_It likely meant that a case had come up._

"_Let me guess," she sighed as she answered it. "Emergency case in Alaska and we have to fly out right away."_

_She waited for his cheerful voice to reply. Even the dryly sarcastic one that he tended to get late at night._

_But there was nothing._

_Just silence._

"_Reid?"_

_This time she heard the sound of breathing. Heavy, almost choking._

_Almost like he was crying._

_But that didn't make sense._

_  
Still, quietly, now a bit worried, "Spence?"_

"_I…" he stammered, then stopped. She thought she heard him gulp and then once again, there was silence._

"_Spence, what's wrong?"_

"_I'm sorry," he replied and then the line went dead._

_She moved quicker than she had ever thought possible, one hand reaching out for the keys to her SUV, the other grabbing a sweatshirt that had been previously thrown across the back of her couch.. She pulled it down over her wifebeater, slipped her feet into a pair of cheap rubber flipflops in the entryway and quickly exited her townhouse._

_She spent the drive to his house deep in thought, wondering if she should call Hotch, knowing that she probably should, but feeling like this was something that Reid needed her to do._

_Just her._

_Whatever the hell it was._

_Her mind whirled hysterically as she drove, throwing a thousand ideas out of what could be wrong with him. Most she rejected for lack of realism, some because she couldn't cope with the chance that the could actually happen._

_But one stuck one._

_One refused to go away._

_What if he had called her to say goodbye?_

_What if that was what he had meant by apologizing to her._

_What if the hell of the last few months had finally overwhelmed him?_

_And if that was true, how then could she possibly begin to deal with what she was about to see?_

_She swallowed hard, feeling a bit of wetness in the corner of her eyes._

_She took a deep breath, prayed for control. Demanded it._

_He was okay. He was fine._

_There was a logical explanation for his call._

_Obviously._

_Something they'd laugh about._

_Well at least they would once Reid started laughing again._

_Things had been so different lately. So dark and emotional._

_So painful._

_For both of them. More for him than her, but she acutely felt the fear of their experience. That and the guilt of it._

_The guilt was the worst part. The fear she could cope with, but the guilt, well that was something that she couldn't quite control._

_Everytime she saw the bags under his eyes, dark and shadowy._

_Everytime she saw him staring off into the distance, his mind surely replaying his torture at the hands of a madman._

_Everytime he snapped in impatient anger instead of smiling boyishly and spewing out some random and utterly nonsensical statistic._

_She missed that Reid._

_Missed him terribly._

_She turned her big SUV down a street that was flanked by trees on both sides. She pulled up in front of Reid's apartment building and parked._

_Getting out, she looked around, noticing how terribly quiet it was. Which of course was why Spence loved to live here. He easily could have afforded a better place, something larger and more modern._

_But, no. That wasn't his style at all._

_She made her way up a stone walkway, to an apartment nestled way in the back, far away from the pool, a good distance from the front office. In fact, if you didn't know how to find his place, you probably wouldn't._

_She approached his door and slammed on it. As the seconds passed without a response, she could feel her stomach seizing. She could feel panic rising in her chest, choking her._

_She knocked again, her fist shaking. "Spence, open the door," she called out, her voice breaking just a bit. "Please," she added on._

_Still nothing. She tested the door and found it locked. And so she knocked again. _

_And again there was no response._

"_Reid?" Hysterical now._

_Silence._

_She stepped back, closed her eyes, took a breath and then kicked out._

_A long time previous, Morgan had insisted that she take one of his self-defense classes. Somehow or another, he'd ended up showing her a view of his favorite moves._

_Namely tackling and kicking doors in._

_Finding the weak spot._

_Making it give._

_Her foot connected solidly with the wood of Reid's front door. It gave instantly and she silently thanked whatever entity was out there for the cheapness of the lumber._

"_Spence?" she called out as she stormed inside._

_Once again, silence._

_Suffocating silence._

_She moved towards the back, towards his bedroom._

_She'd been here a couple of times, but always in either his kitchen or his living room._

_She'd even slept on his couch one night._

_when there'd been concern for her safety during a local case._

_She'd never been into his bedroom._

_Because despite their date, despite their strange and often indefinable relationship, they'd never come close to crossing that line._

_Now wasn't a time to worry about crossing lines._

_Because all she could hear, echoing in her ear, were the words, "I'm sorry."_

_And she was so damn scared of what she was about to see._

_Still, she knew she had to see it._

_She stepped into his room, cautiously, her steps slowing as the fear began to once again choke her. The absolute stillness of the room only made it that much worse._

_Because she couldn't hear anything._

_Not even breathing._

"_Sp..Spence?"_

_She thought she heard a gasp then._

_Or maybe a sob._

_Her hand reached out against the wall and groped, searching desperately for a light switch that she knew had to be there._

_Somewhere._

_Oh, there._

_She flipped the switch and bright yellow light flooded the strangely eclectic room. It was painted two different colors and there were books and magazines everywhere._

_And there…there he was._

_On the ground next to the bed, on his side, shaking._

_Gasping like he couldn't breath._

_His cell phone next to his hand._

_His hand which was spasming._

_She took a step towards him, her knees locking as she moved. And that was when she saw the needle. And just barely avoided stepping on it._

_She picked it up, saw that it was still full of some kind of clear liquid. Fear surged through her again._

_And one word screeched through her brain._

_Overdose._

_Oh, God, overdose._

_She bent down next to him, her hand reaching out to touch his neck. She found his pulse, found it. Not quite steady, but there._

_He was alive._

_She exhaled and felt her legs turn to jelly. She collapsed down next to him._

"_JJ," he gasped suddenly._

"_I'm here, Reid."_

"_JJ," he whispered again.._

_She dropped her head down towards him, brought her lips close to his ear. "I'm here, Spence. Tell me what's going on, okay?"_

"_Go away," he pleaded._

"_No," she replied sharply. "I'm not going anywhere, but I'll call an ambulance, okay? It'll be okay."_

"_No," he rolled over and looked up at him and to her horror, she saw how sunken his eyes were. She flinched involuntarily, but didn't retreat. "I'm…I'm fine. Just leave me alone."_

"_You called me," she reminded him. "So I came running. And now I'm going to get you help. I'll call Hotch and-"_

"_No!" he reached up and grabbed her wrist. "Please, no." He took a breath. "I…I don't want him to see me like this." He met her eyes. "I don't want you to see this."_

"_Then you shouldn't have called me," she replied, the slightest bit of irritation entering her voice. She could tell that her original fear was unfounded; he hadn't overdosed. But he was still drugged out of his mind. And that needed to be dealt with. "So I guess you have a choice then, she told him, sliding an arm under him and lifting him up to the bed. He was light, making her wonder how much weight he'd lost as of late._

_Probably way too much._

"_Go away," he mumbled, once he was settled on the mattress._

"_That's not the choice."_

"_JJ…"_

"_The choice is this: either you let me help you or I call Hotch and let him help you. And if I call Hotch, it's from the hospital."_

_She met his eyes again, let him know that she wasn't bluffing. This wasn't a card game and she wasn't playing._

_Still, desperately, "I'm okay."_

"_You're not. You're high as a fucking kite," she snapped. "And I don't think that's all you intended tonight, is it?"_

"_No..."_

"_No, what? No, you weren't planning on killing yourself or no, you weren't planning on having me find you?"_

_He swallowed, then, "I wasn't going to kill myself."_

_She nodded, "But you didn't really care if you died either."_

_He tried to turn away from her, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. "Damn you," she said, anger sparking in her blue eyes. "Damn you, Reid, how could you do that to me?"_

_Tears filled his eyes, "I'm sorry. I just…I don't want to see him anymore. I just want to…JJ, I want to sleep. Please."_

_And just like that, her anger melted away. Because he looked so sad and broken. And because she knew what he meant._

"_I know," she said softly. She cupped his cheek, ran her thumb across his slightly stubled cheek. "But this isn't the way." She held up the syringe. "What is this? What's in here?"_

"_Sleep," he said. "Peace."_

_She closed her eyes for a beat, then repeated, "What is this?"_

"_Dilaudid."_

_She blinked. "The drug that Tobias was addicted to?"_

_He said nothing, confirming it._

"_Oh, Reid."_

"_I didn't want to, but he was right, it does make it better. Or it did. But then it stopped making me feel good. So I took more. And that helped…"_

"_Until it didn't," she said softly._

_He nodded._

"_Did you already take some tonight?"_

_He shook his head in the negative. "I was going to take that, but my hands, I couldn't get a vein…I…" he looked up at her, a degree of madness in his eyes. "Will you help me? Help me get it in?"_

_For a moment she couldn't reply, so horrified was she. Then, "No." And then she stood up and held up the needle in front of him. "No." She pressed the plunger, forcing the liquid out. It sprayed upwards, into the air. He gasped and one of his hands moved towards her._

"_Stop."_

"_Where's the rest of it?"_

"_Please…"_

"_Where?"_

_He shook his head. She nodded. "Okay, I'll find it myself."_

"_Please don't do this."_

_She started to open his drawers, started to go through his clothes._

"_JJ, I need you."_

"_I know," she answered, moving on to the next drawer._

"_You owe me," he insisted. _

"_I know," she said again. "Consider this repaying my debt."_

_Using what little strength he had, he reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned to face him and steeled herself against the emptiness in his face. "I need you to do this for me," he said. And then he held out his arm to her, a look of madness in his eyes. "I need you to make me feel better. You owe me. You have to do this."_

_For a moment, she did nothing. And then suddenly, she bent forward and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his. "No."_

_For a moment he tensed up against her and then slowly, his body began to uncoil. "Please," he gasped._

"_I won't do that. But I will stay here. I'll stay right here with, Spence," she whispered. "I'll help you through this."_

_His body sagged and then he began to shake._

_And then he broke._

_And for a few moments, so did she._

* * *

_He cried himself to sleep._

_In her life, she'd only seen one other man do that._

_Her brother. _

_While he'd been waiting to find out if his son, who had been born three months premature, was going to survive his first night of life._

_It had been one of the most horrible things that she'd even seen._

_Until now._

_This was worse._

_Noah Jareau had survived. _

_She wasn't terribly sure that Spencer Reid was going to._

_Still, his exhaustion allowed her time to search his house. Top to bottom. Every room. Every cupboard. Everywhere._

_She found three vials hidden in the sugar jar in the kitchen and two more taped to the back of the toilet. Two syringes were in his closet and another one zipped up tight inside his saddlebag._

_The final vial, well that one she found in the pocket of the pants he'd worn to work that day._

_And that had caused her a dilemma. Because Hotch had to know, but maybe if they could all pretend that he had just used at home, then maybe they could just deal with it and be done with it._

_Detox, rehab, whatever._

_But if he'd been using on the job, if they could prove it, well that was another problem all together._

_And so Jennifer Jareau did something that she never did. Something that was against every fiber in her body._

_She intentionally covered up the truth._

_She cleaned out his bag, washed it out just to ensure that there would be no trace of either the drug or the needle._

_Ensured that no one would ever know the truth._

_And then to be absolutely sure, while he was sound asleep on his bed, rolling around fitfully, she'd driven all the way to the BAU and cleaned out his desk, removing two more vials and another syringe._

_She hoped to God that that was it._

_She wondered if she'd gone completely mad._

_All of the drugs were gone now, dumped out. The syringes were taped up and secured inside a plastic baggie. She'd give those to Hotch in the morning. _

_Because he had to know._

_Because getting Reid better went beyond one night._

_Because come morning, the rest of the group would have to know the truth._

_And that broke her heart because God only knew what that could mean for him._

_Not the end of his career exactly. The FBI didn't just throws addicts out on their asses. They worked to get their people better, forced them into rehab. Still, they might also demand that Reid be reassigned to a team with less stress. Less danger._

_And for Reid, that might be as bad as being fired._

_Trying desperately not to dwell on those thoughts, she crossed back into his bedroom and moved over to his bed. He was curled up on it, knees tight against his chest. She sat down next to him. "Spence?"_

_His eyes opened and she saw how bloodshot they were. She realized immediately that he was going through withdrawals._

_She wondered if she should call Hotch now._

_No, she decided._

_She had it under control._

_And he deserved to face Hotch on his feet._

_So for now, this would be between them._

_Just them._

_He let out a short sob. She reached out and pulled him into her arms. "Tomorrow," she whispered into his ear. "You'll tell me why you called me, okay?"_

_He didn't reply, just held onto her, as if for dear life._

* * *

_Current Day. _

Detective Palmer sat down at the table, a cup of coffee clutched tight in his hand. He looked a bit pale, more than a little tired.

He also looked like he was wondering if maybe he hadn't chosen the wrong line of work.

JJ rather knew the feeling.

She'd joined the FBI for many reasons. Justice. Revenge. Absolution.

Because she owed her parents more than a pointless life.

She owed them to make a difference.

"The Maroney's," Palmer said, putting a picture down in front of the assembled team. The only one who was missing was Gideon's former mentor, Oscar Baron. They'd paged him, but he hadn't yet responded.

Hotch reached out and picked up the photo. It showed a happy family. Mother, father, seven year old brown haired boy, five year old blonde haired girl. Picture perfect.

A dream come true gone horribly bad.

"Anna Maroney is severely asthmatic, "Palmer told them. "It appears that the…" he paused, searching for the word.

"Unsub," Gideon offered.

Palmer nodded. "Unsub. It appears the Unsub took the inhaler that was stored in her room."

"So he's not planning to kill her immediately," Morgan noted.

"That's something," Prentiss said. She turned to look over at JJ, saw that she was staring at the picture.

No, not at, through.

She was staring through the picture, her mind completely elsewhere.

In her past, more than likely.

"All right, but that still means we're on a timeline. Anna's probably scared which will likely exacerbate her asthma."

"She'll be okay," JJ said suddenly.

"JJ?" Hotch asked.

"He needs her alive."

"Are you sure about that?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but then stopped. "No, because…I mean…if he thinks he has me…then maybe she's already dead, but if he wants me to come to him, then she's alive. I think."

Under the table she felt a hand reach out and take hers. It squeezed.

She looked to her side, met Reid's deeply concerned eyes.

"JJ, I think we need to put you on the bench for this one," Hotch said. To his side, Gideon nodded his agreement. JJ avoided both of their eyes. She hated the idea of letting them down.

Letting them think that she couldn't handle this.

Even if it was the truth.

She couldn't.

And so she replied, "Okay."

Hotch blinked. Morgan frowned. Gideon cocked his head to the side.

Prentiss's look said that she didn't believe it.

Not for a minute.

But before anyone could challenge her acceptance, she got up from the table and exited the room. Hotch started to get up to follow her, but before he could, Reid stood up.

"I…I got it," he said and then exited the room.

* * *

He found her standing just outside the front door of the precinct, breathing in the cool San Diego air. There was a faint wisp of seawater in the air.

"You ever smoke?" she asked him as he stood next to her.

He nodded slowly. "Once. In High School. When I was trying to find a way to fit in. Guys on the football team offered me one. I thought they were accepting me. They just wanted to laugh." He shrugged, like it didn't really matter.

But of course she knew better.

"I dated a football player in college," she told him. "For three years."

"Three years is a long time."

She nodded. "Yeah. He was a good guy. Dumb. Cute, but really dumb."

"Why'd you break up?"

"Because I changed. I became obsessed with finding out who killed my parents. I didn't tell him that. I just…well I just changed. I should have tried to explain, but I didn't. I just…I don't know, we grew apart. Eventually he broke up with me. He said he didn't know what had gotten into me. Said he missed the old me."

"He was a fool."

She smiled. "Yeah, but Spence, he was the kind of guy I could have married back then. You know, he's playing in the NFL now. For Tampa Bay. I could have been ridiculously rich. And happy, you know? Staying at home and watching my five children pad around the house. I could have done that."

He shook his head, "No, you wouldn't have. That's not you."

"Not me, now, but back then, yeah."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit."

She turned towards him and smiled. "You're sweet."

"But not ridiculously rich."

She laughed. "No."

"JJ, we're all here." He paused. "I'm here."

"I know and don't…don't think I'm not grateful. I just…that little girl, Spence. She shouldn't be going through this."

"No, she shouldn't be, but I'll tell you something, she has a better chance of getting through this with you than without you."

"Hotch benched me."

He shook his head. "If you had said 'no', he wouldn't have said another word. He said what he was supposed to as your boss. We both know that. And we both know that he was surprised when you agreed."

"Yeah," she admitted.

"We'll get him, JJ. I promise."

"You know better, Spence. Promises are for fools."

He shrugged. "I promise."

Grateful for his words, words she still didn't quite believe, she nodded. He reached out with an arm and pulled her close. She dropped her head against his shoulder.

And for a long moment, they just stood there. Then she asked, "Did you like smoking?"

"Nah, tasted horribly."

"I thought so, too."

"You smoked?"

"Not me, my boyfriend. I had asthma as a kid…" she stopped and cocked her head to the side. "I had asthma as a kid. God, Spence, he really does think she's me. She's gonna die because he thinks she's me."

"Maybe not," he suggested. "We don't actually know what he wants with her..."

"You mean me."

He nodded. "You."

* * *

When JJ and Reid re-entered the room, Hotch looked almost relieved. And not at all surprised to see them. As soon as they were seated, he nodded for Morgan to start.

"Okay," Morgan said. "We know that the Unsub is nearby, we know that he's watching us. That means that he has a job that gives him easy access to us."

"But he's in a delusional state," Prentiss picked up. "With one eye he sees the real JJ, knows who she is. With the other, he's still confusing these children with the little girl from twenty-four years ago."

"Can we use that?" Reid asked. When all eyes turned towards him, he continued. "I mean can we maybe put JJ on TV, show him that the real her is right here."

"That could work," Gideon said thoughtfully. "After all we have no reason to believe that he wishes any harm upon Anna Maroney. He might just abandon her."

"Or he could kill her," Palmer said. "I'm not sure that's a risk I want to take."

Hotch nodded. "We might be able to get him to show his hand if we can punch through the pseudo-reality he's created."

"Or we could get him to completely snap and de-evolve," JJ said.

Hotch met her eyes, the smallest bit of a smile playing on his lips. But it faded quickly and he pushed on, "That's a possibility."

"It's your call, Detective," Gideon told him.

Palmer frowned and some of the color drained from his face. "I…what do, what do you guys think?"

"I think, son, sometimes you have to task a risk," Oscar Baron said as he entered the room. He was limping a bit, wincing in pain with each step.

Gideon stood to help him, but Baron waved him away.

"So you think we need to do the press conference," Palmer asked.

"I think If we don't, that little girl will most certainly die. I think a small chance of him abandoning her is better than no chance of finding her before he murders her."

Palmer swallowed. "Okay."

JJ stood up, "I'll start gathering the press."

And with that, she was out of the room, Reid just a few steps behind her.

* * *

"Okay," Derek said, pointing around the room. "We have cops there, there and there. If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, we will plant him."

JJ smiled. "You do know that reporters glare at me all the time, right?"

"Not today. Not unless they want my knee in their back."

Again, JJ smiled, touched by his words. "I'll be okay. I'm okay, now."

"I know you are. You're tough like that."

He gave her a small shove and an impish grin. It reminded her a little bit of David.

She wondered where David was now.

Wondered what he'd think when he found out what was going on.

Would he want to do the same think she wanted to do? Would he want to kill the bastard who had ripped their family apart?

Would he be willing to sacrifice his soul if it meant avenging their parents?

Would he even be willing to entertain the dark thoughts that she was?

God, she hoped not.

"Hey," Hotch said, coming to her side. "You're on in five." Then, "Are you sure you want to do this."

She nodded. "If he wants me, I want him to see me."

Inwardly, Hotch winced, hating the coldness in her voice. Outwardly, he nodded curtly. "Okay, Detective Palmer will be at your side. I'll be in the front row. Gideon and Morgan will be against the wall. Prentiss and Reid will be behind you."

"He's not here, Hotch."

"Just in case…"

"There's no need, trust me, he's not here."

"Okay. Then you're on in three."

She nodded and moved towards the podium. The room was already full of reporters. It was late at night which meant that the earliest this conference could air was on the morning news.

That alone was a risk.

Anna Maroney could be well dead by then.

But really, what choice did they have?

A cameraman to the side held up one finger. She slapped her hand lightly against the mic. It vibrated and squealed. She took a breath and studied the notes that she had thrown together.

Usually she went in a bit more prepared.

But it hardly mattered how prepared she was right now.

Because she wasn't trying to impress anyone with her style.

She was trying to challenge a madman.

Her madman.

Ten fingers. Ten seconds.

She looked around the room, found Morgan's eyes. He smiled slightly. She turned behind her, saw Prentiss and Reid there. Prentiss had a hand on her gun. Reid was watching her.

She turned back to the mic.

Five fingers. Five seconds.

Gideon was standing next to Baron, who was looking around the room, no doubt silently profiling everyone in attendance.

Three.

Two.

One.

Live.

Deep breath.

And then she began.

Slowly, effortlessly.

Her heart beating hard enough to break right through her chest.

To her credit, the reporters had no idea.

* * *

"She did good," Baron said.

Gideon nodded. "She always does good."

"She's scared," Baron continued.

"So would we both be," Gideon replied.

"Point taken."

"So tell me, why are you still doing this?"

Baron smiled slightly. "For the same reason that she's on that stage challenging the man who murdered her family, knowing that he's going to come after her, knowing that he will kill her if he gets her." He paused, then finished, "Because I don't know anything else to do."

"Retire. Enjoy the tropics."

"I am retired, Jason."

"So I see."

"Why did you return to a job that you know is killing you?"

"I don't know," Gideon admitted.

"Neither do I."

* * *

She returned to her hotel room and against her will, fell into a deep sleep.

A sleep where she dreamt about Rory Stone, the tall and handsome football player that she'd dated while she'd been in college. The dumb, but cute jock that she'd lost her virginity to on a stormy November night. Right after he'd had the game of his life.

Right after he'd told her that he loved her.

In the dream, as on that night, she'd been certain that she was going to marry him.

And it had been a perfect dream.

From there she'd found herself in a massive mansion that overlooked Tampa Bay. And all around her, she'd heard the sound of children playing.

And laughing.

And calling her mommy.

And then the dream had turned.

And twisted.

And she'd been standing above a faceless man, a gun in her hand.

Her gun.

And she'd shot him.

Not once.

Not twice.

But until she'd had no more bullets.

She'd woken up with a violent, but silent start.

Shaking just a bit, she pushed herself to her feet and quickly exited the room.

The room which her parents killer had been in earlier that same night.

She made her way down the hall and knocked on Reid's door.

He opened it within seconds. "JJ? Are you okay?"

She shook her head, "No." Then, meeting his eyes, "Can I…can I stay here tonight?" her voice was small and uncertain.

He opened the door wider and she entered.

* * *

TBC… 


	8. 7

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Hey, gang, sorry for the delay in this. Real life and all of that. I'm still quite commited to completing this and I think we're moving towards that end. I hope you'll re-read it all and still discover that you like it. As always, thanks for the kind words.

* * *

_APRIL, 2000._

_She had forgotten how good it felt to be able to take a shower in private. Water dripping down her, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence of the bathroom. Normally, she'd be hearing the voices of her quad-mates. Discussing their dates from the previous evening or bitching about some class assignment or another._

_She'd learned quickly that being shy when you shared a bathroom with three other girls was only going to cause you problems down the line._

_Like the night when post shower, she'd just been standing in the stall, head against the tile, letting the cool air settle against her. She could remember hearing the door to the bathroom open and then hearing two voices. One female and one definitively male._

_The female's had belonged to her roommate Amanda. The male had been her date for the evening. And after a heated make-out session on the sink, they'd moved towards the shower._

"_I'm in here!" JJ had called out frantically, causing Amanda to scream out. Within seconds the floor's RA and half of their fellow students up and down the hall had been flooding the bathroom._

_And she'd still been stuck butt naked in the stall._

_Only now with about twenty people huddled together in the bathroom._

_She didn't think she'd ever live that one down._

_But now, in the bathroom of the house the belonged to her aunt, she was by herself. Quietly enjoying a few days away from college. Home for Spring Break._

_David was as well._

_Or at least he would be soon._

_He was on his way home from Yale, where he'd been studying law. _

_She didn't get to see him much because of their separate studies, but the holidays always afforded them time for catch-up._

"_JJ?" a voice at the door said. _

_She glanced up, realizing that she'd lost herself in her thoughts. "Yeah?" she called back to her aunt._

"_You okay in there?"_

"_Yeah, I'll be out in a sec," she responded._

"_Okay."_

_JJ could swear she heard her Aunt Kristina chuckle a bit. Everyone had always said that Kristina shared her brother Matthew's slightly strange sense of humor. _

_Not for the first time, JJ felt a quick pang of sadness when she thought about her father. A man she knew now only in stories and pictures._

_Shaking the thought away as she always did("accidents happen"), she turned the water off and climbed out of the shower/bathtub combo. Dripping wet, she pulled an overly fluffy towel(atrociously pink) around her and began to dry off._

_As she did so, her eyes strayed to a painting on the wall. Just wild colors. Like a five year old child had just starting throwing paint against a canvas, devil may care like._

_On the bottom of the pic was a signature._

_Her own name. She couldn't remember painting the picture, but had been told numerous times that both of her parents had adored it. For different reasons apparently._

_Her mother had seen artistic value in it, hoping that her young daughter would have a knack for painting._

_Her dad, however, well he'd been all about the chaos of it. _

_Either way, it was a part of her past. A part of a connection to them that never felt quite strong enough for her liking._

_It was home._

_And then slowly, she smiled, realizing just how glad she was to be home._

* * *

"_Jen!" he called out, approaching her quickly. He lifted his twenty-one year old sister up into the air and swung her around. She tried not to, but she couldn't quite help but squeal._

"_Hey," she grinned at her older brother David. Her eyes moved over him, taking in his physical features. He was only two years older than her, but due his constant studies, he tended to always look a bit tired._

_Still, he was handsome, his roguish brown hair slopping around messily. She reached up and ran her fingers through it, moving it out of his eyes. Smiling just a bit, he swatted her hand away._

"_I know," he laughed. "I need a haircut."_

"_You do," she agreed._

"_So do you," he shot back, eyeing her too long blonde hair. It was just about down to her butt, which was completely impractical for a soccer player. Still, Rory rather liked it._

_  
__Even if she didn't._

_She nodded and shrugged. Now it was his turn to touch her hair. "Tell me you're not going hippy girl on me."_

"_No, Rory likes it."_

_David couldn't stop himself from making a face. "Rory the football player?"_

"_Yes," she replied warily._

"_The dumb football player?"_

"_He's not dumb," she protested._

"_Uh huh, he's a jock."_

"_So am I," she reminded him._

_He waived that away and threw an arm around her shoulder. "He's not good enough for you. Especially if he's making you not Jen."_

"_I'm still Jen," she reassured him, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek. "Just more JJ than Jen, you know?"_

_He laughed. "You've always been more JJ than Jen. It's why I love you."_

"_I thought you loved me because of genetics."_

"_Well that, too."_

"_So," she asked, "What about you? You seeing anyone?"_

"_Yes."_

"_A girl?"_

_He laughed. "Yes. Her name is Kelly. She's a business major."_

"_Is she pretty?"_

"_Beautiful."_

"_Smart?"_

"_Smarter than Rory the football player."_

"_You're an ass."_

"_You love me," he shot back, grinning impishly at her._

"_Eh, not really." But just the same, she leaned against him and hugged him tight._

* * *

_Easter Dinner was as always, amazing._

_Amazing and loud._

_Kristina cooked a ham, David made the potatoes and JJ, who could burn a pot of water, burnt the rolls. _

_And still, it was a home-cooked meal, which for both JJ and David, was rather a novel thing these days._

_Now seated in the Living Room, watching TV, Kristina turned to David and rubbed her hands together. Pennsylvania could get damned cold, even in March. "You think maybe we should start a fire?"_

"_Yeah, good idea," David nodded. "Wood still out in the garage."_

"_There's only a little left, but yeah. Against the wall."_

_David nodded and rose to his feet. "You want some help?" JJ asked. _

"_Sure," David answered, knowing that there was something she wanted to talk to him about, away from Kristina. Kristina turned her attention, pretended not to notice, but the gently curve of her lips into the upwards position showed that she knew what was going on._

_Still, to her credit, she said not a word as her nephew and niece exited to the garage._

"_So, what's up?" David asked as soon as the door to the garage closed behind them. He found the switch and flipped the lights on._

"_I think we should do something special for Kristina's birthday this year."_

_He lifted an eyebrow. "Her fiftieth isn't for two more years."_

"_I know and we both know that she won't want to celebrate it. So I was thinking maybe we'd do the 'big birthday' this year. Then in two years, she can pretend she never turned fifty. Or forty-nine. That's just as bad, knowing you're just a year away."_

"_Women are so complicated," David sighed._

"_Yes, we are."_

"_Okay," David shrugged. "What did you have in mind."_

"_A big party with all of her friends and all of our family."_

"_I'll call Grandma, get some names and numbers."_

"_I'll steal Kristina's phonebook," JJ offered. Then quickly amended. "I mean I'll borrow it."_

"_Uh huh," David said as he made his way over to the far wall. There were about twenty pieces of wood left, maybe enough to get through the Easter weekend. He hefted a couple up, then turned around. "What are you doing?"_

_She glanced up from the box she had started digging through. "It looks like there's pictures and stuff in here. Maybe we can find some stuff to use, you know?"_

"_You really are going to end up a reporter, aren't you?"_

"_Shush," she shot back. "Hey, look, an album." She pulled it up. It was a simple brown leather-bound book. She flipped it open to show white pages with sticky plastic sheets. On the first page was a picture of a five year old Matthew Jareau._

_Missing two teeth, grinning ear to ear._

"_Dad?" David asked, looking over her shoulder._

"_Yeah. I wonder why Kristina has never shown us this," JJ replied, flipping the page. The next shot was of David's school photo. Next to it was one of Kristina from the third grade. _

"_Let me see," David asked, taking the book from her. As he continued flipping through it, JJ glanced back down at the box, her eyes catching on a manila envelope. It was aged, its color closer to white than yellow._

_She picked it up, pushed back the brass brads. _

"_Look, Dad as a Boy Scout," David laughed. _

_She glanced over, her hands still absently opening the envelope. "Aw, he was cute."_

"_Yeah."_

_The door from the house opened. "Hey, you guys coming?" Kristina called out._

_JJ and David exchanged a guilty look and then JJ giggled. "Yeah," David said, fighting back laughter of his own. "Just a sec."_

"_Okay," Kristina said, mirth in her own tone. Then the door shut._

"_I'll bring it in," David said, closing the book and offering it to her._

_She was just about to put her hand out to get it when she recalled the envelope that she was holding. She glanced down at what she had removed from it – a faded out newspaper article – and all of the color drained from her face._

"_What is this?" JJ demanded as she stormed into the room, David quick on her heels. She was waving the article around._

_Kristina immediately stood up. _

"_JJ, what's wrong?"_

"_What is this?" she asked again, thrusting the article into Kristina's hands. _

"_Oh, no," the older woman gasped. Then she looked up, pain streaking through her eyes. "Why did you go through the boxes? You shouldn't have done that."_

"_Kris, you said they died in a car accident," David said gently. _

_Kristina glanced down at the newspaper article again. Her mind whirled as she was thrown violently back in time. "I…"_

"_Tell the truth," JJ demanded._

_David reached for her, tried to calm her, but she could feel something surging through her. Something powerful._

_Something that felt a little bit like destiny._

_Once again Kristina stared at the article. The headline read: COUPLE MURDERED IN THEIR OWN HOME. Underneath was a photo of Matthew and Kate Jareau. Both smiling._

_Kristina took a breath and then finally, seventeen years after the fact, offered up the truth. _

"_Your parents were murdered."_

* * *

Spencer Reid rolled over and looked towards the opposite side of the bed. 

The previous night, it had felt a little bit like a cliché come to life. JJ had come to the room, emotionally distraught and clearly scared. She had asked if she could stay with him.

He'd been more than happy to oblige.

Then, of course, they'd argued about who would get the bed.

He'd offered to sleep on the floor.

"Absolutely not," she'd replied. "We can share the bed. We're both adults."

And therein lay the cliché. Partially because he wasn't sure that he was an adult when it came to Jennifer Jareau.

With her lying next to him, close enough for him to smell, well it brought out something in him.

And that somehow during the night she'd ended up curled against his chest, well that hadn't been lost on him either.

Now, however, now she was gone.

Not lying against him or even next to him in the bed.

"JJ?" he called out, wondering if she was in the shower.

No answer. He stood up, wearing flannel pants, and padded over to the bathroom. The door was open, but a damp towel lying in the corner suggested she had been there not long ago.

He frowned, not all that comfortable with the idea of not knowing where she was.

Especially with a mad man out there looking for her.

A man who wanted to kill her.

* * *

"Why does he want JJ?" Jason Gideon asked, pacing the room, hands in his pockets. He glanced up at Hotch, who was sitting on his bed, flipping through the Jareau casefile. He'd had Garcia send it over a few hours earlier. "Or more to the point, why JJ exactly." 

"I'm not sure," Hotch frowned. "You would think that his main focus would be on the wife, not the daughter."

"Okay," Gideon nodded. "We have a serial killer who is likely in his late forties, early fifties. Obviously still strong enough to be able to subdue adult males."

Hotch nodded. "He went almost twenty years between kills."

"But he only killed once the first time."

"Once that we know of. The original murders, they seemed more accidental than planned. I mean, Matthew's murder certainly was, but her strangulation…"

"And lack of evisceration. That's a new touch."

"Exactly. And the strange part is, that's a touch you'd expect from a strong and youthful man as opposed to an older one with diminished physical strength."

"It also speaks of a rage angle," Gideon noted.

"Twenty years later," Hotch murmured. "Something stopped him."

Gideon shook his head. "No, we're missing something here. Something doesn't fit."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we've seen killers who have disappeared for twenty years. They're usually interrupted by injury or incarceration."

"Okay."

"But this don't feel like that. Twenty years ago he murdered a wife and husband. The children were out of the house. They didn't interfere in any way so what could JJ have possibly done to have incurred this kind of rage? How is this all about her?"

A knock on the door stopped Hotch from answering.

"Come in," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Reid, still dressed in his bedclothes.

"Everything okay?" Hotch asked.

"I…yeah, I was just checking for JJ. She was with me last night…"

He stopped, seeing the arched eyebrows of both of his superiors. He waved them off impatiently.

"No, not like that. She was just…she was…she didn't want to…"

"She didn't want to be alone," Gideon finished for him. "Understandable."

Reid nodded. "She was gone when you woke up?" Hotch asked. Again, the youngest member of the BAU nodded.

"I checked her room, but she wasn't there either. I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe she went to talk to Morgan or Emily…"

Neither Gideon nor Hotch missed the slight note of panic that was rising rapidly in Reid's voice.

"Calm down, Reid," Hotch said. "She may have just gone down to get something to eat from the café."

"Right," Reid breathed, feeling a little stupid.

"Check with Morgan and Emily. I'll check downstairs. I'm sure everything is fine."

Reid nodded, then quickly turned and exited the room.

Once he was gone, Gideon and Hotch exchanged a worried look.

And then they both followed Reid out.

* * *

She was sitting at the table alone, enjoying the quiet, sipping a cup of coffee. It wasn't the best, hardly Starbuck's quality, but it served its purpose. She knew that she probably should have left a note for Reid, but to be honest, she hadn't thought about that until she'd been already seated. 

And she despised the idea of having her every movement monitored. Or having her friends and co-workers afraid for her. She wanted to be strong. For him and for them. Needed to be.

Had to be.

"Another cup?" a voice said from above her.

She turned to see Tyler, the nervous waiter they'd met the first night. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping lately.

She smiled. "Sure." She offered him her cup. He filled it up.

"If you don't mind me asking, how's your case going?" he asked, his eyes still refusing to meet hers.

"Kind of rough," she admitted.

"I saw your press conference yesterday," he told her.

"Yeah, we need to find that little girl."

"You think she's still alive?"

"I hope so."

"You mind if I ask you a question?"

She laughed, didn't bother to point out to him that he just had. "Not at all."

"What did you mean when you said 'her name is not Jennifer.' I don't understand that…"

JJ smiled slightly. "We think the man who took that little girl might be confused about who she is."

"Oh."

She smiled again, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. This young man was intense, even in his nervousness. Then, because he wasn't showing any sign of leaving. "Do you happen to have my bill, I need to get back upstairs."

"Yeah, sure, give me a second." He crossed away, over towards the cash register. She watched him, then flashed another smile as he came back over to her and handed her the piece of paper.

Almost immediately, she felt a harsh coldness surge through her.

Written on the receipt, instead of the amount owed, were the words: I HAVE THE GIRL. IF YOU WANT HER TO LIVE, YOU"LL COME WITH ME. SAY A WORD AND SHE'LL DIE.

JJ didn't move for a long moment, instead tightly gripping the wooden armrests of the chair, her nails biting into the lumber.

"Come with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Slowly, she stood.

* * *

"Yeah, she was here earlier," the manager replied as he hurried to close out three of his breakfast tables. He turned around. "Goddamn it, where the hell is Tyler?" 

"When was she here?" Hotch asked. He was flanked by the rets of the team, including a very nervous looking Reid.

"Maybe about ten minutes ago. Oh and she left something."

"What?" Reid asked, moving forward.

"Her cell, must have dropped out of her pocket," the manager replied, handing them JJ's well-used PDA.

"She wouldn't lose this," Reid squeaked.

"I know," Hotch said, trying to stay calm. Then to the manager, "Where was she seated?"

The manager pointed. "Over there, the table that couple is at." He pointed across the room to where a young man and woman were enjoying breakfast.

Hotch nodded and led the team towards the table. He flipped up his badge. "Ma'am, Sir, do you mind if we look at this table."

"What?" the guy asked.

"It'll be just a moment," Gideon soothed.

"Sure, whatever, but we damn well better get our breakfast comped," the man growled.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, but remained silent as the man and women moved away, allowing the team access to the table.

Morgan saw it first, bent down over one of the chairs. "Guys," he said. "Look."

And sure enough, there they were, looking fresh, long fingernail grooves into the wood.

"How the hell did he get her with all of these people around here?" Emily asked, anger in her tone.

"She left with him," Gideon answered. "Willingly."

Reid shook his head. "JJ wouldn't do that. She knows what he wants to do with her."

"Maybe they have videocameras," Emily suggested.

"Not in here," Hotch said, pointing around.

"But he would have had to have walked her out through the lobby and there should be cameras there," Gideon corrected.

"Good," Hotch nodded. "Let's have a look."

* * *

She was scared out of her mind. 

She kept replaying the walk out to his car over and over in his mind. How she'd tried to find the cameras, how she'd been looking for anyone to make eye contact with.

But no one had been looking.

After all she'd been walking with a hotel employee.

No reason to worry.

He'd walked her all the way out to the employee parking lot and then forced her into his trunk, waving around a gun that she'd never seen him pull out.

She wondered if it was loaded.

She wondered if it mattered.

She was stuck in a dark trunk, feeling like the air was seeping away, knowing that it wasn't.

Wondering if she would have a chance to escape.

To live.

She didn't want to die.

She took a breath and tried to slow herself down.

Tried to think about.

She'd always imagined a day when she'd come face to face with her parents killer.

But this man, in his late twenties, he would have been five then.

Five. Tyler.

Five.

Tyler.

Oh, Tyler.

And then she remembered him.

The little boy she had played with as a child.

The memories, long forgotten, flooded her brain.

Of afternoons spent at the park with this painfully shy boy. At first she had tried to be friends with him, but he'd been unlikable, even rude at times.

And when the adults had been gone, he'd called her names.

Names a five year old child should never know.

He'd been such an angry child, but one who immediately became a good boy whenever his father had come near.

He'd pulled her hair, kicked her…

All of those things and more.

And the day his father had picked her up and brought her back to their house…

She remembered that now, too.

How she and little Tyler had been up in his room and how he'd looked up at her and said, "I don't want you as a sister."

She'd looked up at him and replied, "Well I don't want you as a brother."

And then returned to playing.

But now she wondered if maybe he'd been serious.

Known something she hadn't.

About his father.

And suddenly, just like that, it all made sense.

The "nice Mr. Krause" as her mother had called the man who had one day come into their lives and then never stepped out.

She wondered why her father hadn't noticed.

Realized that she'd never know that answer.

Not even a profiler could pick a dead man's brain.

Suddenly, the car came to an abrupt stop. Then a door slammed.

She was wherever he intended her to be.

She prayed for strength.

* * *

The doors to the apartment ripped open and the men with guns streamed in, many of them yelling "clear" as they went from room to room. Morgan and Hotch, both wearing their bulletproof vests, were at the head of the group. 

"She's not here," Morgan said, turning towards Hotch. They were standing in the middle of Tyler Krause's apartment. It was messy and disorganized, full of different shows of mental chaos.

Full of looks into Tyler's mind.

He, the waiter they had profiled on the first night.

He, the young man who had become absurdly nervous around JJ.

It made sense. Not a lot of it, but some.

Not enough to solve this case and bring JJ home, however.

Hotch reached into his pocket and extracted a phone.

"Who are you calling?" Morgan asked.

"Someone who I think can help shed some light on this. If we can get him here in time."

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" JJ asked, her voice trembling just a bit. He had blindfolded her and was pushing her through a room and up a set of stairs. 

"You did this to me," Tyler answered, looking around the room.

"Tyler, we were both kids. Whatever happened between our parents, neither of us were responsible for it," she insisted.

She felt the rush of air against her face before she felt his palm. Her cheek burned, but it didn't hurt that badly.

"Not me, not my dad, you and that bitch."

Her jaw clenched with anger.

Control, JJ, control, she urged herself.

"I was five, Tyler."

"You were the reason I lost him. You and her."

She felt herself get pushed down into a chair. "Tyler, where's the girl? Where is she? I came with you, you can let her go."

"I already did," he said.

"Good," she whispered.

"I have a surprise for you," he told her.

"Tyler…"

He removed the blindfold and she gasped, another memory hitting her hard.

This room that she was in, it looked exactly like the one she'd spent the first five years of her life.

He had brought her home.

Or at least to a place that looked an awful lot like home.

In any case, he had brought her home to die.

Or considering what he'd done to the rest of his victims, worse.

* * *

"Jason," Oscar Baron said, limping into the room. 

Gideon looked up from where he was seated at a table with Prentiss and Reid. Morgan and Hotch had gone with Palmer to Tyler Krause's apartment.

"We've found the girl," Baron continued.

"Is she…"

He nodded.

Gideon blew out air, feeling his heart take another punch, feeling the emotional strain of another loss.

The little girl who hadn't been JJ had died for it.

Because even though she hadn't been her, she had looked just like her and perhaps for Tyler Krause, that had been enough.

"How much time do you think we have?" Emily asked in a low voice, trying hard not to look at Reid.

"Not sure," Gideon admitted. "I suppose it matters if he plans to repeat the ritual with JJ."

"Rape," Reid spit out. "And evisceration."

Instinctively, Emily reached for him, took his hand and squeezed it. "JJ's strong," she told him. "She'll find a way to survive.

He nodded, but his eyes plainly said that he didn't believe her.

TBC…


	9. 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Bet you forgot about me, eh? Anyway, I know it's been awhile. Work and all that. Lame excuses, but just the same. I'll try to get this wrapped up pretty quick now. Just a couple more chapters left. I thank you for the constant and considerable interest. I would advise if it has been awhile that you go back and start from the beginning(even I had to do that and I still may have missed some continuity issue).  
**

**STORY NOTES: As previously stated, considerable creative liberties have been taken with JJ's life and family. This chapter is a bit on the dark side, but nothing graphic so much as implied.**

* * *

_March, 1994._

_They wrestled like two boys._

_Which wouldn't have been a problem if they had been two boys. But they weren't. Despite what apparently David Jareau believed, his little sister Jennifer was most certainly not a boy._

_But sometimes she sure as hell acted like one and he sure as hell treated her like one._

_  
Well most of the time anyway._

_Unless boyfriends were involved. In that case, David became a real pain in the ass. He'd rag and tease his sister until she threatened to maim him in some way or another. _

_Not that her irritation with him in regards to her boyfriends or anything else had ever stopped him from mercilessly harassing her. _

_Siblings were like that._

_He was seventeen and she fifteen and they were closer than Kate and Matthew could have ever hoped for._

_  
That, Kristina Jareau believed, was her gift to her deceased brother and his wife. That was her tribute to them._

_To raise their children to be happy, healthy and full of life._

_Even if that life meant horsing around like two teenaged boys. _

_Kristina passed by the kitchen window and glanced out into the backyard. The two of them were out there, kicking a soccer ball around and generally shit-talking each other._

_Who was slower, who kicked like a girl…_

_And they were laughing._

_It was a painfully familiar sight to her. _

_It reminded her off growing up with Matthew._

_Laughing with the wildness of youth._

_She swallowed hard, closed her eyes and allowed a moment of grief to overtake her. It held on, swept through her soul, crushed her heart and took her breath away._

_And then she heard the laughter again, a loud dancing noise. It came from Jennifer as she tore a path around her brother and kicked the ball into a makeshift net at the back of the yard._

_Kristina's chest released and she found she could breathe again. She glanced out the window, saw Jennifer dancing around, hands up in the air, taunting David with both her words and her actions._

_And then, of course, David tackled her._

_They both fell to the grass, laughing like wild hyenas._

_Kristina felt her heart swell with bittersweet pride and joy._

_And then she yelled out, "Stop horsing around and come in here and set the table!"_

_They stopped their wrestling, glanced up at the window and then both, at the exact same time, burst into another mad fit of laughter._

* * *

"_So, tell me about Marcus," David began, his eyes still on the road. _

"_No," she replied._

"_Oh come on, I promise I'll be good."_

"_You're a liar."_

"_Yeah, of course I am, but I'm supposed to be; I'm your big brother."_

"_And that gives you a right to make my lovelife hell?"_

"_You're fifteen, J, your lovelife should involve some kissing and a few quick pats on the chest."_

"_Classy," she snorted._

"_I'm serious, Jen, none of those boys have any business trying to get past first base with you."_

_She laughed. "I am so not talking about this with you."_

_His eyebrow shot up. "Who?"_

"_Who what?"_

"_Who got past first base?"_

"_I didn't say anyone had."_

"_Yes, you did."_

"_No, I didn't."_

"_Yes, you did. By saying you weren't going to talk to me about it."_

"_No, I just said I wasn't going to discuss sex with my overbearing big brother. That's all I said."_

"_Marcus, right? He tried to get you to-"_

"_Don't you dare finish that sentence," she warned, glaring at him._

"_He did, didn't he? I'm going to kick his ass."_

"_David, it's our first date."_

"_Well then maybe I should have a talk with him first."_

"_You really are an ass, you know that?"_

_He smirked. "I have a pretty good idea."_

"_Mm, we're here. Just drop me off and go away."_

"_Okay, okay. Jeez, just try to have a little conversation with my baby sister and I get nothing but a cold shoulder. I'm hurt, you know that."_

"_No, but I can hurt you if you'd like," JJ shot back._

_He winked. "You could try."_

"_Just let me out, okay?"_

"_Okay." He pulled the car up in front of a house. Two other teenaged girls, members of JJ's soccer team, were waiting out front for her. "Enjoy your party tonight. Enjoy Marcus."_

"_Bite me," she replied, before getting out. Then she grinned at him and slammed the door shut behind her._

_He watched her stride up to the two other girls. After a beat, he pulled out into the street and drove away._

* * *

_David Jareau liked his dreams. He never quite remembered them when he woke up, but the good ones, they stuck somewhere in his subconscious and when his mind was clear of other nonsense such as English and Trig, he found that he could draw those dreams._

_Draw them into images full of colors._

_He wasn't bad at drawing, but it had never felt like a calling._

_A release of restless energy, yeah, that was better._

_But that release always started from the dreams._

_Sometimes they were strange, full of violence._

_Sometimes they were beautiful, full of women._

_And sometimes, like the dreams of seventeen year old boys were apt to be, they were full of both._

_Tonight was pretty though. Lots of girls, most of them much older(to only his mirror would he admit to having a Mrs. Robinson fixation) than him. All of them very well…endowed.  
_

_And they were all over him._

_Saying his name. Purring his name. Ringing his name._

_Ringing? What?_

_He came awake with a start, saw the phone next to his bed ringing. Both he and JJ had personal lines in their rooms, something Kristina had relented to upon realizing just how social they both were._

_He picked the phone up and muttered a groggy, "Whu?"_

"_David," a voice whispered, before that whispered cracked into a sob._

"_Jen?" he said, sitting up straight. "Jen, are you okay?"_

"_I need you to come get me, please."_

_He was already up and on his feet. "Where are you?"_

"_Peter Bannister's house."_

"_Where are the other girls?"_

"_I don't know. I can't find them. I don't want to ruin their nights. I just…David, I just want to go home."_

"_I'm on my way, Jen, just hang on. I'm on my way."_

* * *

_He'd never driven so fast in his life. Typically, Pete Bannister's house, which was on the other side of town, was about a ten minute drive._

_He made it in six flat._

_Pete was a sophomore just like Jen which meant that the parties he threw tended to get the younger teenage set, very few seniors._

_After all, seniors were too cool to hang around with kids._

_Kids didn't know how to sneak the good alcohol in._

_Kids didn't know how to not get caught._

_Just the same, some of the older set did occasionally show at the parties. Mostly because any party would do._

_It occurred to David as he parked in front of Pete Bannister's house that the guy Jen had been meeting up with, Marcus Frey, was a senior._

_A guy in his own grade._

_Too old to be dating his sister._

_He saw her immediately. Sitting out on the curb, arms around her, her mascara streaked. She'd been crying._

_And yet still…she looked okay…_

_He jumped out of the car and rushed to her. "Jen?"_

_She stood up and nearly fell into his arms._

"_What happened?" he asked, fear turning his insides cold._

"_I just want to go home."_

"_Tell me what happened," he urged._

"_He just…I thought…we were just joking…I wasn't…I thought he wasn't like that…but he kept grabbing me…I had to hit him and he called me a…"_

_Her face pressed into his chest and he felt her shake._

_And in that moment, he understood._

_His sister was tough as nails and because of that, he often forgot that she was a girl at all. She let him forget. She was a better athlete than him, could spit further than he could and played a mean thumb war._

_It made him forget sometimes that she was still his little sister._

_Her tears now made him remember that loud and clear._

"_Did he hurt you?"_

"_No," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "But I thought…I'm such an idiot…"_

_And then she was trembling again. He heard a cracked sob and that was all it took. Slowly, he led her back to the car. He slid her into the passenger seat and then leaned in._

"_I want you to stay right here. I'll be right back, okay?"_

_She looked up at him, realizing what he meant to do. "David, no. I just want to go home."_

"_Stay here, Jen."_

"_David…"_

_But he was already walking towards the house, anger in each stride._

_She waited for about five minutes, her mind circling around viciously, new scenarios presenting themselves at breakneck speed._

_What if he got hurt? What if…_

_But then he was walking back towards the car. He got in and started the engine. She looked down and saw his hand, his knuckles cut and bloody. _

_She reached out and touched his hand. He looked up at her and then cold anger in her face melted away. He smiled at her, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then slid his hand over hers and squeezed._

_He made it very clear to her that everything was okay._

* * *

PRESENT DAY.

Everything was most certainly not okay for Jennifer Jareau.

She was alone in the mock up of her childhood room, staring at walls that had been papered to resemble a memory she'd long ago boxed up.

A memory filled with pain and loss.

And murder.

And now more murder.

Her parents had died in a room just down the hall from hers.

She had a good idea that a little girl named Anna Maroney had been brutally murdered in this room. And God only knew what other horrors had been visited upon her.

JJ had been alone in the room for awhile now. At least an hour. She had no idea where Tyler was, but it hardly mattered.

He'd bound her at the wrists and ankles with heavy ropes and then tossed her onto the single bed with an atrocious bright pink quilt.

The quilt, well that was from her childhood as well.

The real one had been her mother's idea; a Hail Mary attempt at turning her tomboy daughter into a princess.

As a child of five, JJ hadn't cared what color her quilt had been.

As an adult, it scared the shit out of her.

She could have rolled herself off he bed, but what would have been the point? The room looked exactly like her childhood one, but it was completely void of anything she could use to get the binds undone.

It was completely lacking in anything she could use to find a way to get the hell out of here before Tyler returned.

And so while she lay there on the bed, her hands and feet cramping just a bit, she tried not to think of the vibrant color pictures she'd seen of Tyler's victims.

She tried not to think of the little girls.

She tried not to think about how he plainly still saw her as a little girl.

She thought about her team instead.

How they wouldn't rest until they found her.

How she knew that they would find her.

How she had faith in that.

How fear and faith weren't the best of partners.

And just as she was thinking that, the door to the room opened and Tyler entered. He looked even more disturbed than when he'd left.

He was muttering to himself and running his hands through his hair.

Until he saw her.

And smiled.

"They just said it on TV," he told her. "They just confirmed that I got you. I got you, Jennifer. I got you."

* * *

"Tell me again why we just did that?" Derek Morgan demanded, glaring back at his boss. Every part of his body felt tense and on-edge.

He felt like he was about to explode with fear and frustration.

"Because he killed Anna Maroney immediately after realizing that he wasn't JJ," Aaron Hotchner said softly, his tone perfectly controlled not to show the same anger and agitation that Morgan's was.

"You think if he knows he has JJ, he's more likely not to kill her immediately. He's more...he's more likely to take his time with her," Prentiss said softly. It was a statement, not a question. A chilling one at that.

Slowly, Hotch nodded.

"God knows what that sick bastard could do to her now that he knows it's her," Morgan said, his jaw clenching.

Again, Hotch nodded. But this time he added, "We have to give ourselves time to get to her. It's our only chance."

"He's right," Gideon said as he and Reid entered the room. Reid was fidgeting nervously, his hands twitching.

And that made much of Morgan's anger fade away.

Because suddenly everything came into focus.

They were all on edge but only one of them had fallen over that edge recently. Only one of them within the room was likely to fall over it again if everything went to hell. If the worst case scenario happened…

"What about the using his own child to integrate with the families of his victims theory?" Morgan asked suddenly, cutting off whatever else Gideon had been about to say. He was looking directly at Reid, trying to pull him into case, trying to keep him connected.

"We haven't found anything to suggest that Tyler Krause had a child," Reid noted, his eyes snapping to attention as he scanned his memory from any signs of a Krause offspring. To himself, Morgan sighed with relief.

"Then maybe the theory was wrong," Prentiss offered.

"Maybe, but then we still have to explain how he got to know these families so well. How he knew their houses," Hotch replied. "Now that we know who our Unsub is, we need to track backwards, see what if any connections he had to our victims."

"Good," Gideon nodded. "Break up. We have five families and a very short amount of time to tie everything together."

That was all that need be said. The group was up and out of the room.

At the tail of them, Gideon and Hotch exchanged a wary look.

A look full of the kind of fear that comes from having been around this block a time or two.

A look that said something like "sometimes, you don't get there in time."

A look that said something like "but sometimes you don't. Sometimes, time runs out first."

* * *

Penelope Garcia had never typed so fast in her life.

And she was hardly the only one.

As a general rule, she wasn't keen with letting other techs play in her kitchen, but when it came to JJ, ego and ownership be damned.

She'd let every FBI tech that had ten minutes to spare see her files on the case. And every one of those techs was now looking over the lives of Tyler Krause and his victims with a magnifying glass with 500x magnification.

And so far finding very little of any use.

One of the families had been funneling money to a bank account in a foreign country with about thirty vowels in the name.

Another one, well the husband had most assuredly been having an affair.

Bastard.

Hardly deserved to die.

Another had recently had a consult with a plastic surgeon who specialized in breast augmentation.

All of these peaks inside, but, no sign of Krause being connected to them.

But, of course, he had to be,

In some way.

And she was going to find it.

Because JJ was her girl.

In many ways, her best friend.

No, in all ways.

She'd had a lot of friends at one time, before her parents had died. And then after they'd died, she'd had a different kind of friends.

The kind that stuck around to watch the chaos but not the tears.

Jayje, well, she was the real deal.

The whole team was, but Derek and JJ, they were something more.

They were something crucial to her soul.

Garcia considered herself a strong woman; she'd certainly been forced to endure more than was fair.

Too much loss. Too much pain.

And so she'd created her own peace.

A modified Zen if you will.

A way to survive the reality of the nightmares.

Because the monsters under your bed and in your closet? Well she now knew them to be true. In more ways than one.

But she had to survive. She had to stay sane.

And that required the presence of the only family she had left.

Her team.

All of them.

She'd do anything for them. Anything.

But for Morgan and JJ maybe just a tad bit more than the others.

Just a small itty bit tad, but a tad nonetheless.

And that included something that was small to others, but huge to her.

Letting outsiders inside.

Allowing other techs into her files.

Because her team….because JJ meant more.

* * *

She'd waited so long for him to hurt her that finally her frayed and exhausted nerves had tossed her into a darkly troubled sleep.

One that was restless and full of chaos.

Images from past and present.

It started out kind to her.

Her parents, her dad laughing wildly as her mom attempted to scowl.

She and David kicking a ball around. She driving around him, leaving him in her wake.

Her college boyfriend, Rory Stone, as he kissed her. As they fell backwards onto a bed. The simplicity of blind ignorant youth around them.

And then sitting with Reid, Prentiss and Morgan in her office as they mocked Derek for getting hustled. The laughter of cynical, but otherwise happy adults.

God that seemed like so long ago.

The violent images followed soon after.

Her parents faces melted into the horrifying crime scene photos she'd finally seen when she'd joined the FBI. Pictures that had driven her into the bathroom, her stomach lurching heinously.

Pictures that had buckled her knees and made her sob like a child.

Everything after that came fast and furious. Flashes of the past.

The pain of breaking up with Rory, knowing that he was a good guy, maybe once upon a time even "the guy", but now no longer.

The terror of finding Reid on the floor of his room, a needle nearby.

Too many pictures, too much emotion…

Too much…too much…

"Jennifer," he said, his hand stroking her face.

She stirred and whimpered a bit in her sleep.

"Jennifer, wake up."

And then he grabbed her jaw roughly and forced it upwards.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared up at him. He was looking down at her with a strange kind of wonderment. Like he was curious.

"I sleep like that, too," he said softly. "Even the pills don't work."

She didn't know what to say to that so she said nothing.

Just waited.

For something.

Anything.

And then he said, "Did you know my father loved your mother?"

She swallowed hard. She desperately didn't want to hear this, but knew that had no choice.

Knew that her only chance to survive was to endure him.

Even if that meant finding a way to keep him talking.

"Where is he?" she asked softly.

Tyler blinked as if suddenly(and quite strangely, JJ thought, especially considering his obsession with her) remembering that she was in the room.

Then, flatly, "Dead. He's dead."

"Did you kill him?"

"Yes,"

It was so cold, so devoid of emotion. Involuntarily, she shuddered.

"Why?" she asked finally, gritting the words out.

"Because I learned the truth. He threw me away, you know that? After your mother, after what happened, he ran. He left me to my mom, but she didn't want me. She wanted everything else, but me. I lived with relatives, but they didn't want me either."

She forced herself to say, "I'm sorry", but the truth was that she could care less about his sob story. She had no doubt that he intended to hurt her badly and thus her sympathy for him, well it wasn't likely.

Still, keeping him talking…

Time…it bought time.

"They tossed me to the state the first chance they could. I spent almost ten years in fifteen different Boy's Homes. You know the things that happen to you in those places?"

The person she was sent a shot of sympathy through her soul.

Because she did know.

She knew that those places, meant to save lost children, could often do more to destroy the soul of their charges than the meanest streets could.

And yet…fury, anger, fear…she held onto it.

If she sympathized, if she felt even a second of human pain for this monster, well then she was probably lost.

So instead of speaking, she nodded slowly.

He ignored her though, off in his own world, now mercifully several feet away from the bed, pacing around anxiously, agitated.

"Things you can't imagine, things a child should never have to go through. And you do things, horrible things to survive. You know, I grew up thinking that every child went through that. I figured it was just life. I figured that life just sucked for everyone. I could deal with that."

It was really shame that she had binds on her hands and feet, she mused bitterly, because now would have been a great time to take him out.

"When I turned eighteen, I got the hell away from that town and I went out into the world. I lived my life. I got a shitty job. I got two of them. I was okay. I was surviving. And then I saw him. Here. In San Diego. In my city."

To herself, JJ said the word "trigger". And then mentally added on a bitter, "Wouldn't Hotch me proud of me now?"

"You know no one ever knew what happened to Dad. Mom said he just ran off. Said sometimes men do that. Said I was better off without him, but I wasn't. With him I was lonely, without him I was in hell."

He swallowed hard and again, JJ felt the surge of empathy for him.

It made her sick to her stomach.

This man was a monster.

Who hadn't started off a monster…

That said, she reminded herself, he was now a monster who intended to do unthinkably horrible things to her.

Empathy could – and should – only go so far.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I walked right up to him and said 'dad'. He looked at me like an idiot. I told him who I was and he didn't care. He shook my hand and said 'good to see you, son' and then walked away. He walked away from me again. Can you believe that?"

Tyler laughed, an edge of hysteria there. He was losing it. And to her chagrin, she noticed that his wild steps were drawing him closer to her.

"So I followed him back to his hotel room and I made him tell me why he left me, why he let me go through the things I did. You know what he told me, Jennifer? You know why he deserted me?"

She tensed up,

"Because he was in love with your bitch mother. Because he wanted to be _your_ father. _Your father,_ not mine. _Not mine_!"

And with that he spun around and cracked his fist into her jaw.

The pain, utterly unexpected, ripped through her body like an earthquake. She held on for just a second and then finally, after a few seconds of desperately trying not to, succumbed to the darkness.

Her last conscious thought was wondering if she'd ever wake up again.

* * *

They were all sitting around the tables, files opened in front of them, plastic coffee cups scattered about the table. Morgan was pacing back and forth, too much energy and caffeine coursing through him.

"Nothing," Emily sighed, surrendering the first show of frustrated failure. And then she followed it up by tossing the file into the middle of the table.

"Keep looking," Hotch urged, even as he closed his own file. "There has to be…there is something. We're just not seeing it."

"Jason," a voice from the door said. The group turned to see a very weary and exhausted looking Oscar Baron in the doorway. He had refused to leave the station, offering to assist with looking through the files.

He hadn't been the only officer to volunteer to do so.

There were many families.

Law enforcement was one of the biggest.

"There's a young man out here asking to see you."

Gideon lifted an eyebrow.

"He says his name is David Jareau."

Looks were passed around the room and then everyone was up and filing out, into the hallway.

Where a handsome young man with brown hair and eyes was standing, talking to Detective Palmer. His jaw was set hard, bags under his eyes suggesting lack of sleep.

"Mr. Jareau," Hotch said, walking towards him. "I'm Aaron Hotchner."

"David Jareau," David replied. He took Hotch's hand and gave it a quick hard shake. And then, his voice cracking a bit, "Where's my sister?"

Another look was exchanged, this one plainly saying, "good question."

TBC….


	10. 9

_**Author's Note: Wow, can you believe it? Almost a year later? Honestly, the hardest part was that this story was started when Gideon was still with him and I find his voice now very difficult to get to. A few old eps watched though and it was time to bring this tale to near completion. All that remains is an epilogue. I would very much recommend going from the beginning on this one. Even I had to. There are a few things that probably aren't going as I originally planned, but in the end, this is the story I wanted to let be told.**_

**_I thank you for your interest and all of your kind words. I hope you are satisfied with this journey. Your thoughts are always appreciated._**

**_One last note - this chapter is intense. Be forewarned._**

**_J - you are most certainly up now._**

* * *

_**April, 2004.**_

_Almost immediately, she wished that she hadn't done it. She wasn't quite sure why she had. Human curiosity probably. _

_Stupid, silly, damning._

_She stared down at the file in her hand and fought back the urge to throw up. _

_Kelly and Peter Taylor, a once happy couple in Dublin, California. Now both they and their infant child were dead at the hands of a maniac who targeted brunette women with babies. Just four days earlier she'd had the case in her hands. Two murders of the same already._

_A pattern._

_She had chosen another case instead._

_That the case she had chosen was just as dramatic and horrific hardly seemed important._

_That this family was dead likely because of her choice was all that mattered. _

_Their deaths could have been prevented by the team._

_By her._

_Oh, God._

_A knock on the door made her look up._

_Perhaps she'd been locked away in her office too long. Perhaps the others had noticed how she'd retreated behind the closed door, hands trembling even if her face seemed calm._

_She steeled herself, forced herself to own her nerves._

"_Come in."_

"_JJ?" Hotch called out as he entered. His eyes immediately settled on her. "Everything okay?"_

"_Yeah, why?" Cool, put-together, no sign of the turbulence that was currently bending her stomach._

"_You've been in here awhile."_

_She chuckled humorously and pointed to the stacks of files around the room. "Work."_

"_I know."_

_They stared at each other for a long beat. Long enough for her to realize that he was onto her. So quickly, she moved to her feet. "I'm hungry."_

"_You want me to order out for lunch."_

"_No," she replied, flashing him one of her best practiced smiles. Number 3, in fact. The "everything's just fine and dandy" smile. "I'm just going to head down to the cafeteria. I hear they have tortilla soup. I love tortilla soup."_

"_Okay," he said. He stepped out of the way and let her pass. Once she was gone, he glanced back around her office. She'd only been in it for a little over two and a half months, but the stacks of files made it look like she lived here._

_Two and a half months and already Jennifer Jareau had made an impact on the team._

_On him._

_He looked down at her desk and saw an open file there. And because half of profiling was seeing things one shouldn't and then using them to explain usual behavior, he picked it up._

_Dublin, Califonia. Murders. On the top page was a note that said that the killer had been captured. He had been grabbed less than twenty-four hours earlier. Still not quite sure why his communications liaison was looking at this particular file, he flipped to the next page._

_And understood completely._

_Because on that next page was a formal request for help. At that bottom of that was her signature and a small short explanation of why the BAU wouldn't be taking on this case._

_It was logical. Risk assessment. Resources were needed elsewhere._

_Her call._

_He looked over the timeline and closed his eyes for a moment._

_Between the time she had received and declined the request and the time that the killer had been caught, another couple had been murdered. _

_She was blaming herself._

_Of course she was._

_She was too new to the job, too green. She hadn't seen enough yet to understand. To build up protective walls._

_That there were too monsters to catch them all was a sad truth that she would have to get used to._

_That she'd hadn't been prepared for the guilt? That was on him._

_That was his fault._

_

* * *

_

_Apparently she really did like tortilla soup. He filed that nugget of knowledge away for later. He had no idea where he'd make use of it again, but just the same, he lock-boxed it in his brain._

_He found her sitting at one of the long tables in the cafeteria, eating by herself. Well kind of eating. She was more staring down at the soup, stirring it relentlessly, almost compulsively._

"_JJ?"_

_She looked up, surprise in her eyes. It took her only a second to recover. "Hotch? Is everything okay? Did something come up?"_

"_No, I wanted to talk to you."_

"_Okay." She look troubled, worried. Like she wanted to ask if she had done something wrong, but wouldn't quite dare._

"_I saw the case on your desk."_

"_Oh." She went back to stirring the soup, staring down at it._

"_JJ, it's okay to feel the things you are."_

"_Maybe, but it's not okay to have made that mistake."_

"_JJ…"_

"_They're dead because of the choice I made, Hotch."_

"_No," he said, tone firm enough to make her look up and meet his eyes. "They're dead because Connor Trembly murdered them. And yes, maybe we could have stopped him in time. But you sent us to Alabama instead where we stopped a man from killing other innocent people."_

"_That doesn't make it okay."_

"_It needs to or this job is going to destroy you before you even get out of your probationary period."_

_Her eyes flashed then and he felt a moment's relief. That she wouldn't succeed at this had never entered her mind. She had known of the six month probationary period for specialized departments, but never given it a second thought. _

_That he was rather pissed her off._

_And he was glad of it._

"_I can cope," she answered tightly._

"_I believe that, JJ. I think you can make yourself do whatever needs to be done. I believe that about you, but my concern isn't your ability to manage yourself; it's you. I'm here to make sure you're okay."_

"_I am."_

_He almost smiled then. Because she was stubborn and strong willed. And because in spite of his reservations and the voice in his head that worried, he almost believed her._

_Almost._

_So again, another attempt to break through just a little._

"_Then let me be very clear. Every day, you will get a stack of files. And every day, you will need to make decisions that you can live with. Can you?"_

_This time she paused. Not long. Maybe two breaths. In. Out. In. Out._

_Finally, "Yes."_

"_Okay. Then I will get up and walk away from this table and leave you to your lunch but before I do, you have to make me a promise."_

"_What?"_

"_If you can't, you come to me."_

_She nodded slowly, but didn't actually say yes. It was another thing he filed away for later. How she could let her actions betray her emotions, but not words._

_Still, reasonably assured that she would be okay, he stood up. "I'll see you back in the BAU." He turned his back on her, started away…_

"_Hotch?"_

_He turned._

_She smiled at him, this one actually real and not quite so refined. This one a little bit raw and uncertain. "You can stay. If you're hungry, I mean..."_

"_I haven't eaten all day," he admitted. _

"_The soup really is quite good."_

"_All right, I'll give it a try."_

_Another smile from her, brighter, more confident._

_He found himself returning it(though he'd never admit it). She was new to this. Young, stubborn, learning._

_But in that moment, he knew she'd be fine._

_

* * *

_

_Present Day_

She hurt.

Her entire body ached, but the waves of paid radiating from her jaw where he had struck her could best be described as white hot.

She tried to open her mouth and that hurt terribly.

"You deserved that. You know that, right?"

She looked over at the far wall of the room, saw him leaning against it, flexing and unflexing his hand.

"He used to say that to me when he'd hit me. Tyler, I'm only doing this because I have to. Because you need to learn, son. Mom said something like that, too. Different words, same purpose."

For a moment, she said nothing, not quite sure of which path to take with him. Did she humor him and play into his delusion or did she try to force him back into reality?

Either option seemed dangerous.

Either one could cause him to snap at a moments notice.

It turned out he made his decision before she did. He crossed over to her and sat on the bed, causing the mattress to dip and creek. He reached out and touched her face, tracing his fingers over the bruise on her jaw. It took everything she had not to pull away. Not to anger him even more.

"We should get on with this," he said.

"No," she pleaded. "You don't…we don't have to do this at all."

"Yes, we do. I need…I need to stop thinking about you. I need to stop hating you. This is the only way."

He moved in towards her, as if to roll himself atop her.

"Tyler, I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

It stopped him and he rolled back away. His head was slightly tilted.

"You're sorry? For what?" Confusion, uncertainty.

Her mind raced. Yes, for what?

"For her hurting you."

Her stomach seized just a bit. She fought through it.

"She did," he agreed.

"I know."

"She took him away from me. She destroyed my family."

"I know."

"You hurt me, too."

"I know and I'm sorry for that, too," she assured him, biting back on the revulsion that was trying to overtake her. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry.

She wanted to kill him.

But most importantly for now, she wanted to live.

And these were just words.

Just words. She was so good at just words.

He looked over at her and she thought she saw something strange in his eyes, maybe even a bit of moisture. Then, "I believe you, Jennifer. We were both just kids."

She exhaled, not sure what his words meant.

But then, "And I don't think I'll enjoy watching you die as much as I thought I would but you still have to die."

She bit down hard on her lip, just barely managed to stop an anguished whimper from escaping.

He turned then and exited the room.

She closed her eyes tight.

The revelation that nothing she said was going to stop him hit her like a freight train.

And then reality.

Cold and clear.

She couldn't hang around waiting to be saved; there simply wasn't the time left on the play clock for that. Which meant that she had to find a way out of this mess on her own.

* * *

"Coffee, son?" Oscar asked, extending a cup.

David Jareau shook his head. "No." Then he turned back towards the group. "How could you let this happen?" His hands slid through his mop of brown hair. He and JJ didn't look a lot alike, but their energy signatures were identical.

Wired hot, always tracked, on top of everything.

Right now, he was also furious.

The team was gathered in the room with him, all of them sitting, watching him pace back and forth.

Everyone else including Detective Palmer was out on patrol, combing every inch of the town, desperately hoping for a break.

Gideon was the first to answer, quietly, directly, "We didn't let this happen."

"You knew she was in danger. Why was she ever alone? For even five minutes? You should have had someone on her the whole damned time."

His eyes flickered around the room and settled on the youngest of the bunch, surely the one his baby sister affectionately called "Spence". He was looking away and down at his hands.

"Yes, we should have," Hotch said, standing up. "But what's done is done and we can stand around assigning blame or we can do something about this."

Silence greeted him. He knew that his words were a bit unfair; who could possibly argue with him.

He continued on, speaking directly to David. "What do you know about what happened to your parents?"

"Everything in the file."

Picking up on what he wasn't saying, Prentiss stepped towards him. "What do you know that isn't in the file? What do you know that JJ doesn't know?"

"Not a lot. Anything that's in the official record, she's seen. We've argued for years about her obsession with this case. I told her to let it go, that we'd both come to a good place, you know? A place where we're making a difference. I'm a DA, she's this…"

"JJ's not one to give up easy," Reid said softly. Then he looked up and for the first time David saw the wide brown eyes, full of pain, full of exhaustion.

"No, she's not. Spence, right?"

Reid nodded. "Yeah."

"She thinks the world of you, man."

"I think it of her."

"Then you never should have let her out of your sight. Do you have any idea how much she had wrecked herself over what happened to you in Georgia?" His fists were clenched tight.

"That enough," Morgan said, stepping between David and Reid.

David looked like he was far from done.

"David," Hotch called out, using his name to force the older Jareau sibling to look over at him. "I know you're upset, but this isn't helping. We don't have a lot of time left. JJ doesn't have a lot of time left."

David swallowed hard, the color draining out of his face. He had stepped into the room looking like a tall and imposing man. Now he looked so much younger. And just a little bit lost.

"Talk to us about the case," Oscar suggested.

"I don't know what you want me to say. You have everything in front of you."

"Tell us what's not in here," Prentiss urged.

"I'm not sure it's all related."

"Now's not the time for doubts, man," Morgan said. "JJ's life is on the line."

David flared again. "Don't you dare…"

"Enough. Focus." Hotch insisted. "Anything and everything, David."

"Okay, okay. About a year ago, after I tried a major case in Philadelphia involving child murders, I was all over the TV and newspaper. I started getting a lot of weird mail from folks. Shit like that brings out the crazies like you wouldn't believe. Anyway, I'm not sure why, but I read it all. Inside of one of the letters I got was a newspaper photo of one of the dead kids On it was written: 'I wish this had been you'. Very childish handwriting. No DNA on it. I put it away for awhile, but I kept going back to it. I guess I just knew there was something about it. Something personal."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope.

"I got another one a couple weeks later. A copy of an old photograph." He pulled out a picture, the exact same one that had been left in JJ's hotel room. On the back was scribbled, "I've found you. I'll find her."

"Did you tell JJ?" Prentiss asked, taking the picture and tracing her fingers over the younger image her of her blonde friend.

"No. I thought about it, but you guys don't understand. I'm not kidding when I say she's obsessed. She is. Over the top obsessed."

"How do you mean?" Gideon asked, frowning slightly. He glanced over at Hotch, noticing how unsurprised his colleague appeared to be.

"Her theory was that this was a passion killing, not a serial killer and so she's been doing checks on everyone she can verify lived in the same city we did when we did. Anyone she thought could have done it, she tagged them and has kept an eye on him."

"Garcia," Morgan murmured.

"Who?"

"Her means to track these men," Hotch put in. Then to Morgan. "Get Garcia on the line. Now."

Morgan flipped open his phone, hit a number and listened to the quick dial. Then, "Tell me you've found her."

"Sorry, Baby Girl, not yet. Putting you on speaker phone."

"Okay."

"Garcia," Gideon said first. "JJ was having you tag cases for her?"

A beat of silence, then "Sir?"

"Now's not the time," Hotch put in. His eyes flickered around the room, taking in his people. Reid was still looking shell shocked, Morgan angry and Prentiss, well her expression was unreadable as always.

"Sorry, yes, she's had be watching people that lived in North Alleghany when she was a child."

"Anyone of interest?"

"I thought we'd figured out who our creep is?"

"We do, but what we don't know is how he's been doing what he's been doing. We have no idea where to find him now. Maybe something in what JJ has been having you watch can help us."

"Right. Good idea. I'll look through everything and be back to you in three minutes."

No mirth, panic. She was scared shitless.

The line disconnected.

"Penelope?" David asked.

"JJ's told you about her?" Prentiss queried.

"About all of you." He shook his head. "Which is why I can't understand how you let this happen to her."

So back to this then.

Hotch understood it. Frustration. Fear.

The inability to do anything besides wait.

They could profile Tyler all they wanted, but at this point, it wouldn't help them find JJ.

They needed hard information.

They needed a miracle.

* * *

He returned with a knife.

It was large and crooked, the kind you probably used to gut an animal with.

Or a person.

She noticed that he had changed his clothes, too. He was in all white, which made little sense to her.

Her blood would get everywhere.

But then maybe that was the point.

Maybe he needed to wash himself in…

She shuddered.

"Tyler," she whispered. "You don't have to do this."

"You know I do, Jennifer. You know I have no choice."

"Yes, you do. There's always a choice."

"No." So plainly. So right to the point.

He stepped towards her and sat down on the bed again.

"I wish I could tell you this isn't going to hurt, but that's not the truth. I imagine it will hurt terribly. It needs to."

"Tyler…please…"

"For so long I've been looking for you. Thinking about you. Do you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"When you found out they were dead?"

"Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes."

She desperately didn't want to talk to him about this, but every moment spent speaking to him was another moment alive.

Another moment for her to figure out how to survive this.

She'd managed to make some progress with the ropes on her hands, but even if she could break them away, the ones on her feet were a problem.

She didn't figure to get very far by hopping away.

And still, while she answered his questions, she used the sharp edge of the buckle of her watch against the ropes. Her wrist was badly cut up and if he had bothered to look, he would have noticed the blood beneath her.

But that would have required him to be in the here and now and he clearly was anywhere but.

"Tell me about that moment. Tell me what it felt like."

"I didn't understand it. I was just a child. I didn't realize they were never coming back."

"And when you did?"

"I cried."

"But when did it really hurt?"

She looked up and met his eyes. "When I found out what your father did to them."

He had asked for the truth and she had given it. For a moment, she held her breath, waiting for him to explode again.

But he didn't. "Good." It was all he said. Then he reached out and placed the knife against the top button of her blouse.

She inhaled sharply.

No, no, no.

She wasn't going to let this happen.

No, no, no.

"Tyler, what about the children."

He blinked and pulled the knife away. "What?"

"How did you get in with all of these families?"

"I have a daughter." He touched her face. "She looks just like you."

This time, JJ couldn't control the shudder that shook her frame. She wanted to throw up.

That this man who had so violated these poor little girls could possibly have one of his own seemed like a cruel and unthinkable twist of fate.

"Where…where is she now?"

"At home. Waiting for me to come home. I promised her we'd travel soon. She likes to travel, but she hates all these different schools. I promised her we wouldn't have to keep changing soon. I was thinking when this is over, maybe I'll take her home. Maybe it'll be okay then."

He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I really am. "

* * *

"Oh my God," Garcia said softly, her voice coming out of the speaker.

"Baby Girl, what?" Morgan asked, leaning in.

"We had him tagged, Derek. We had Tucker Krause tagged."

"But Tucker's not our guy," Oscar stated.

"Tucker is dead," she replied. "He was killed ten months ago. Murdered there in San Diego. Cold case."

"The son killed the father?" Prentiss speculated.

Looks met hers, but no one agreed or disagreed.

"Okay, what about Tyler Krause?" Hotch asked. "We know he had an apartment on 3rd Avenue…"

"I think I just found out how he's been getting to these families," Garcia told him. "He has a five year old daughter. Her last name is O'Malley. Born in San Diego."

"Where's mom now?" Morgan questioned.

"Went missing."

"People seem to show up dead or missing around this young man," Gideon murmured, more to himself than the others.

"He's been moving his daughter from school to school."

"No one thinks it's strange for a kindergartner to move so much," Prentiss put in. "He just says he's looking for the best one for her."

"Garcia, we need you to pull another rabbit out of your hat, Sweetness," Morgan said. "Any idea where Tyler took JJ?"

"I'm looking," she said desperately.

Hotch glanced around the room. From Reid to David. Both men were mirroring each other, completely silent. Pale faced. In shock.

"Oh my God," she said suddenly. "I have something. I have something."

"What is it?" Reid asked, sitting forward, eyes wide.

"There's a condemned house in downtown San Diego. Demolition is slated for next week. It's owned by Tucker Krause!"

* * *

"Look at me," he said. "I need you to see me. I need you to understand."

She looked up at him, stared into eyes that stretched back into an empty soul.

"Good," he said. Then he bent towards her, angling the knife towards her. He touched her blouse with it and then looked down at her, almost thoughtfully.

And then he did something she hadn't expected at all.

He gave her an opening.

He bent down towards her feet, used the knife and cut the ropes that were keeping them together.

"Let's finish this," he whispered, pushing himself atop her.

For a moment, his weight paralyzed her. Everything in her brain went foggy and she couldn't focus. Thankfully, when his hand slid under the hem of her shirt, the rough pads of his fingers coming into contact with her skin, her mind snapped back on.

Closing her eyes, she jerked her head forward and slammed her forehead against his. Ignoring the surge of pain that exploded in her temple, she shoved herself to her feet and he rolled away, howling in pain.

"Bitch." Moaned through a mouthful of blood.

She considered a witty comeback and then decided to just run. He had left the door to the room open so she barreled through it. She saw the stairs and raced towards them, hope surging through her.

Then fate played another cruel trick.

Unable to balance herself, she stumbled on the first step and tumbled painfully down the stairs, settling into a heap at the bottom.

She cried out in pain, feeling the agony of a broken ankle.

The desperation of knowing that she wasn't going anywhere anytime fast crashed through her.

Her body had betrayed her.

She looked up and saw him coming down the stairs, blood streaming down his face, knife in hand.

She pulled at the ropes binding her hands, screamed at them to release.

"That was very, very stupid, Jennifer" he said to her as descended the steps. "I was going to make it quick. I just wanted it over. Now I'm going to make it hurt. I'm going to make you hurt."

She didn't doubt him for a second.

She tried to back up and into the wall, but it hardly mattered. He was atop her in seconds, his fist colliding with her already bruised jaw.

She prayed for unconsciousness.

If it was going to end like this anyway…

He hit her again and again.

And still the darkness refused to come.

Blood stained her vision. She could hear him screaming, saying something, but she couldn't understand the words.

They didn't matter anyway.

She thought of David, thought of Spence.

Garcia, Hotch, Morgan, Em.

Even Gideon.

She prayed that they would find a way to get past this.

Tears streaked down her cheeks.

She felt his weight atop her, shoving her down. Felt his hands on her.

Heard her own voice, raspy and broken.

She didn't understand what it was saying either.

She struggled, pulled, pushed, kicked…

And then suddenly, the ropes around her wrists gave way.

She'd never know how she did it, would never be able to explain what she was thinking or if she even was. Her body took over then, her shredded hand reaching out and taking the blade that he'd dropped on the ground when he'd climbed on her.

It cut into him so easily.

Like butter.

He screamed, pulling up and away from her, eyes wide.

He looked down at her, shook his head, couldn't believe it.

"No…"

She yanked the blade out and forced it back in again.

And again.

And again.

Heard the screaming again.

His and hers.

His in pain.

Hers in rage.

Mixing, merging, combining.

Her eyes locked in his. And watched. Until this was nothing left.

Until his weight was once again atop hers.

Not moving. No longer capable of moving.

She pulled the blade out again, red hot liquid spilling down her arm.

She slammed it back in once more.

Heard only her voice now.

She thought heard a voice. Saying something.

Her name maybe?

Something slamming open.

Voices.

Yes, her name.

The weight lifting off of her.

And then the darkness took her back.

**_TBC…_**


	11. Epilogue

**Author's Note: And finally, the end. Hopefully you will all agree that this wrapped up well. I hope the entire journey can be considered worthwhile.**

Story Notes: I would absolutely advise reading from the beginning as many of the flashbacks(anything in italics) in this chapter will make more sense if you do.

**Thanks for all of your fantastic feedback. It has been appreciated.**

**

* * *

  
**

She saw lights above her head. Blurry, too bright, blinding. And voices, merging together, saying things, few of which she could understand.

In fact, the only thing she could make out was her name.

Jennifer.

No, that wasn't right…

* * *

_She looked up, watched as her aunt walked slowly towards her. She tilted her head, confused about the tears on Kristina's face._

"_Hey, kiddo," Kristina said softly, kneeling down in front of her. "How are you holding up?"_

_She shrugged, looked over Kristina's shoulder, towards where the two long wood boxes were. All afternoon, she'd been wondering what was in those boxes. All afternoon, even as a child, her instincts had told her that she didn't really want to know what was in them._

"_We're going to head back to the house in just a bit, "Kristina assured her, reaching out to touch her face. "I'm sure you're hungry."_

"_Will Mommy and Daddy be there?" she asked. Almost immediately, Kristina's face darkened._

_A long moment passed before Kristina said softly, "Jennifer…"_

_She didn't hesitate. "JJ."_

_After all, that was what Daddy liked to call her._

"_JJ," Kristina corrected. "Do you remember what I told you and David about heaven?"_

"_Yeah."_

_And then silence again and she looked back towards the boxes._

"_JJ…" Kristina said, reaching out for her. _

_

* * *

_

Nothing was in focus yet. Quite the opposite really.

And so she settled for closing her eyes and just listening.

She recognized two of the voices immediately.

Hotch was one of them.

Her brother David was the other.

The third voice – one she didn't recognize at all - had to belong to the doctor in charge.

He was tossing out medical terms. None of them sounded serious, but everyone seemed so grave, so worried.

She wondered if she was seriously hurt.

She didn't feel hurt.

She didn't really feel anything.

Probably the drugs.

Good drugs apparently. Very good.

"When will we know if she suffered any head trauma?"

"Soon. We're going to run a full battery of tests on Agent Jareau. If there's something to find, I promise you, we will find it."

* * *

_She figured that she was all out of tears and yet every time she had thought about it, they came again. In great emotional watery torrents._

_She could barely get the words out. "He tried…to…attack…"_

"_I know, Jen," David soothed, again stroking her hair. He'd been doing that all night. Just sitting with her, holding her, assuring her that it wasn't her fault, promising her that the high school senior who had tried to get fresh with her would never do so again. "It's okay," he'd promised. "You're okay."_

_

* * *

_

She blinked and slowly, the light fell back and shapes began to take form. The first thing she saw was the smooth white ceiling. No holes in this one.

"'Jen?"

She looked up and smiled (as much as she could – with all the drugs coursing through her, she felt a bit like someone after a Botox treatment) when she saw David's worried brown eyes gazing down at her.

"David," she managed.

"Yeah," he said, sighing with relief. "Are you…"

"I'm okay." Then, in a lower more hesitant voice, "Aren't I?"

"You are," Hotch said from the doorway. He entered the room and the first thing she noticed was that he wasn't wearing his jacket. She considered mentioning that to him, but it would have required a lot more speaking than she wanted to do.

"Hey." She tried to sound casual, like nothing had happened. No one was buying.

"Hey," he replied. "You had us all worried there."

"Really? I wasn't worried at all. I knew I'd save the day."

He smiled, this one large and genuine.

Immediately, calm came over her.

Either he was smiling because everything was okay.

Or he was smiling because everything was so far gone that it just didn't matter anymore.

Either way, she could see the black at the edges of her vision. Taking her towards a restful nap or the final one, she just didn't know.

Her last thought as she faded back was that she hoped she'd wake up again.

* * *

_She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking up at her mud and blood stained reflection. She could still feel her heart pounding. Loud. Louder._

_The memory of their victory – her victory – was still so fresh in her mind. The Miracle Kick as her teammates had decided to call it._

_It had taken awhile for the adrenaline to fade. But finally, it had._

_She could feel the pain winding its way through her slender frame._

_When she had kicked the ball, she had landed hard on her front, connecting with the hard ground at full speed. It hadn't hurt then. It sure as hell hurt now._

_She lifted her shirt and looked down at the dark bruises already forming around her ribs. Blacks, blues and purples. Explosive and in full bloom._

"_Very nice," David said from the doorway._

_She looked back at him, then back down at the bruise. And then, she smiled._

_

* * *

_

Broken ankle. Two broken ribs. A badly bruised jaw. A mid grade concussion.

All ugly injuries, but none horribly serious.

The worst of them was the ankle, which had required a screw to be inserted to hold everything together. She'd be on crutches for at least six weeks.

She was lying in the bed, head against the pillow, listening to the machines when she heard footsteps. She looked up to see Oscar Baron in the doorway.

"I hope you don't mind me coming by," he said with a smile.

"Not at all. Please, come in."

"Thank you, my dear." He stepped into the room and sat down beside her. "I'm frankly surprised to find you alone."

"Me, too," she chuckled. "But to be honest, it's kind of nice to have a few seconds alone with my thoughts."

"Then I won't stay long."

"That's not what I…"

"I know. Look, I wanted to talk to you about the promotion you were offered." She opened her mouth to ask him who had told him. He held up his hand. "Jason did. He's quite proud of you. It's a big promotion, I understand."

"Yeah."

"Turn it down."

"Excuse me."

"Agent Jareau, I don't know you from the lady who I pass by every morning when I walk my dog, but I do understand a little bit about teams. I understand a little about your team. It's something special."

"I know that."

"Hotch and Jason will both push you to take the job because that's what they should do. They just be trying to help you in your career. But life isn't about careers. It's about being happy. It's about being at home. Think about that."

"Okay."

He turned to leave and then stopped. "It was a real pleasure to meet you, Agent Jareau."

"You, too, Mr. Baron."

He smiled and exited, leaving her once again alone with her thoughts.

Only now she wasn't so sure that she wanted to be.

* * *

_She had come up with a way of dealing with the cases that she walked away from. She had created a network of contacts that she could passes cases along. She had made sure that even when she said "no", somebody was going to say "yes"._

_And then she would go home and pour herself a stiff drink. Just one. No more than that. Enough to dull the pain, enough to feel it._

_It had gotten easier over time. She had learned to rationalize better._

_And she had made sure to take pride in the victories. Each one of them mattered, kept her whole._

_Each one reminded her of why she was doing this._

_

* * *

_

David had wanted her to come back with him, stay for a few days while she recuperated. She had even considered it, but realized that she needed to take care of a few things first.

"I'll see you in a few weeks," she promised him, arms wrapped around his neck.

"I don't like this," he whispered into her ear.

"I know, but little sister needs to fly."

"Little sister always flies."

"Yes, she does," JJ said with a smile. She touched his cheek. He pulled her close again, kissed her hair and held on.

* * *

_She went with Reid in the morning. Stood beside him, almost holding his hand. They explained everything to Hotch and Gideon. _

_The nightmares and the drug use. They recited the practiced lie that he had never used while on the job. She said nothing of his apparent pseudo suicide attempt. All of that was between them and would always stay that way. _

_Reid agreed to out patient rehab. His career would stay intact._

"_JJ?" Hotch called her back. _

"_Sir?"_

"_Forgive yourself."_

_She smiled slightly and then turned and exited. _

"_She won't," Gideon had murmured. "She can't."_

"_She will when he's okay."_

_

* * *

_

Hotch looked up at the knock on his door. "Come."

It opened and JJ came in, on her crutches. Most people looked uncomfortable on them, but she looked downright wrong, completely stripped of her usual grace.

"You have a moment?"

"Always. Please, sit down."

She did slowly, wincing just a bit as she settled herself into the chair opposite Hotch's desk.

"I went and spoke to the director."

"Good. When do you start?"

"I don't."

"You –"

"With your permission, I'd like to stay here. In the BAU."

"JJ, are you sure about this?"

"Yes. Do I have your permission?"

"Of course you do. I just…I need to make sure this is the right decision for you."

"That's two different questions. Is it the right decision? I honestly don't know. Maybe so, maybe not. I guess we'll find out. Is it the right decision for me? Yes. This is where I belong. This is my…this is my family, Hotch. You guys."

She looked down and away, a bit embarrassed.

"JJ…"

She looked back at him and there was the barest glimmer of tears in her bright blue eyes. "I've spent most of my life wanting to catch the man who took away the life I was supposed to have. It was all I thought about. But you know what? When I was lying in the hospital bed, after everything happened, I realized it was all okay. I have a good life. I like my life. What we do here, it matters. I matter. I need that. That's my tribute to my parents. I can't give them that if I'm sitting behind a desk answering emails for the director."

"Okay."

"Okay." She stood back up. "We're about to head out for drinks, the rest of us. Even Gideon. Will you join us?"

"Sure," he smiled.

* * *

_She didn't sleep that night. How could she? She had come home for Easter and found out that everything she thought she knew about the terrible accident that had taken her parents from her was a lie._

_Now what?_

_She climbed out of the bed and made her way over to the dresser. The scrapbook that she and David had been looking through lay there. She brought it back to the bed and flipped it open._

_Mom. Dad. David._

_The four of them together. _

_Family._

_Family lost._

_The tears fell like rain._

_And then determination steeled inside her. _

_She would find this man, the one who took her family from her._

_She would. Whatever it took._

_

* * *

_

"Okay, okay, toast," Morgan said, holding up his glass.

The others did likewise.

"To JJ, who has decided to stay with us. You poor sad soul."

Laughter and then everyone took a drink. JJ met Hotch's eyes.

"Okay, my turn," she said, lifting her glass again.

"To…family." She said with a smile full of emotion. She was close to tears, but they didn't need to know that.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then, " "Yeah, I'll drink to that," Emily said. She reached out and squeezed JJ's hand.

"You'll drink to anything," Reid chirped.

She responded with a small punch to the shoulder.

"And me, Reid?" Garcia queried. "You saying I'm a lush, too?"

"Uh, no...I didn't..."

More laughter and teasing. JJ tuned out most of the actual words.

It occurred to her that she'd been wrong. Her tribute to her parents wasn't the bad guys she put away. That was in honor of them. No, her tribute to them was this.

The family she'd found.

They would be proud. Of that, she was certain.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, her hand rising up to touch her necklace.

"JJ?"

She opened her eyes, saw Morgan watching her.

"You okay?"

"No."

"No?" Hotch asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"No. I haven't beat anyone at darts yet. Which means that I still have to pay for my own drinks. Derek, care to take me on?"

"Even with you on crutches, I can't win, can I?"

"No."

"We'll see."

He stood up. So did Reid, Garcia and Prentiss. The five of them made their way over to the board, leaving Hotch and Gideon behind.

They walked as the younger agents teased and mocked each other. They watched as JJ obliterated Morgan.

Their eyes met and then Hotch nodded.

JJ's toast had been right.

This was his family, too.

**-FIN.**


End file.
